


Invocation

by mylifeisloki



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artist/Muse AU, F/M, Reverse Big Bang Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-15 21:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11814927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeisloki/pseuds/mylifeisloki
Summary: Who knows where inspiration comes from. Perhaps it arises from desperation. Perhaps it comes from the flukes of the universe, the kindness of the muses. -Amy TanSteve Rogers is just trying to cope with life after the army. The last thing he expects is to find salvation in the arms of a beautiful stranger he meets at a cafe.





	1. Clio; Muse of History

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this amazing photoset by @sleepygrimm. It's been a pleasure to work with your aesthetic. <3
> 
> http://sleepygrimm.tumblr.com/post/163017797010/romanogersweek-mini-bigbang-2017-steve-as-an
> 
> The Nine Greek Muses were goddesses of the arts and were known to inspire those who called upon them. An invocation was used at the beginning of epic poems to serve as an opportunity for the poet to call upon the Muses and ask for their blessing and inspiration.

Long story short: PTSD was a bitch.

Steve had thought long and hard about what it would be like to try and get back into the army now. There was no way he’d pass a psych eval and if he was being honest with himself, it didn’t feel the same anymore. Seven long years in a coma was more than enough to make him really think about his life and the steps he ought to take next; maybe it was in his best interest to think about what would make him happy instead of what would do the most good for others.

Supported for a while on his small pension from the army, which had really only been given to him because of his medals and what he’d gone through, he navigated life like he imagined a ghost might. The world turned without him, life went on, but everything felt muted from where he stood. Bucky was gone. Peggy had moved on. He’d never felt so alone before.

But it wasn’t in Steve’s nature to wallow in his own misery. He settled himself into a small apartment in Brooklyn and allowed himself exactly three days before he was forcing himself into a jog each and every morning, a routine at the gym at least three times a week, and three square meals a day. He faltered sometimes, but some success was better than complete and total failure. Without skills or any means of actually making money, he sent out several applications for work as an illustrator only to be told that without any experience, all he could do was cultivate his mastery and keep applying. There was no point in lying about it; Steve had slipped into a depression that felt like it was taking away any chance at happiness he had left. He’d been seeing a counselor like the doctors had suggested, but Sam could only do so much.

The thing that really did it was when Steve caught sight of himself in the mirror after being unable to convince himself to leave the house for five straight days. He’d grown a beard by then, his eyes were empty and dragged down by deep bags beneath them, and the tshirt he’d thrown on was so threadbare that he could practically see his chest through it. Even his hair was a mess, as he hadn’t bothered to comb it into his normally neat style, and the fact that he hadn’t bothered to shower left him feeling filthy in more ways than one. He felt… hopeless. His whole body ached so much that he considered whether or not the exercise was actually helping.

Staring at himself in the mirror, he started to think about Bucky and what he would have said if he was there to see this.

 

_ “Get your head out of your ass, Stevie. You’re not getting any younger.” _

_ “What are you waiting for? There’s a whole world out there!” _

_ “You deserve better than this, pal.” _

 

With the words of a ghost echoing in his head, Steve slid down to the floor and let himself cry for the first time since they’d told him the news. With his legs bent up and his fingers tangling in his hair, he just let it all out and prayed that this might be enough to cleanse him. He hadn’t yet been able to force himself into a church since he’d woken up; maybe it was time because the dark, looming thoughts that haunted him at night were starting to become very real.

The next morning, a Sunday, he showered and pulled on clean clothes, but he couldn’t convince himself to shave. The scruff he was sporting now just felt like it reflected the way he felt inside. Still, he was convinced to get out of this rut and left the house with every intention of starting over in a simple way. First, he walked the six blocks to the closest church and took a seat in the very back row for early morning mass. By the time they were going through the sign of peace and shaking one another’s hands, he deeply regretted isolating himself, but it was his instinct right now to do exactly that. He didn’t go up to receive communion either; it just didn’t feel right.

His second goal for the day was to buy a whole new bunch of art supplies. He spent too much money, but he carried his purchases back home feeling successful and proud for once. It would probably fade, but he would cling to that feeling while he could. Unfortunately, he realized once he’d set up his new easel and his new paints that in order to paint, he needed to be able to think of something he wanted to get down on paper. Nothing came to mind; that is,  _ nothing _ was able to penetrate the darkness currently fogging every element of his life. Frustrated, he moved up to the roof of his apartment building and tried to work on the skyline, but it just wasn’t going well and by the time the sun went down, he was staring at a half-finished piece of shit painting with tears in his eyes.

Right. There was that whole other thing he needed in order to be able to do this: inspiration.

Dejected and saddened that he couldn’t seem to manage  _ anything _ anymore, Steve retreated back into his apartment and tried to sleep. One visceral nightmare later, he was curled up on the couch with his brows furrowed and a brand new sketchpad sitting on the table, his similarly brand new set of pencils beside it. Maybe inspiration didn’t have to be something new, maybe he just needed to focus on the things that were always on his mind anyway.

Taking a deep breath, Steve pulled the supplies onto his lap and began sketching Bucky the way he remembered him; brash and young, charming and unbelievably good. He could remember the way Bucky smiled, the way one corner of his mouth would lift up just a little more than the other, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges… Before he knew what was happening, Steve was allowing the desire to have Bucky back with him win out over everything else. He didn’t eat for hours, he didn’t bother trying to sleep, and he didn’t move from the couch until he’d drawn Bucky not once, not twice, but at least a dozen times.

And then it was Peggy’s turn; Peggy, with her curled hair and her red lips and her big, brown eyes. Peggy all dressed in her uniform, Peggy in that red dress she’d worn that one time. This was what Steve knew and it was so much easier to focus on people who had been an inspiration to him than to think about finding someone who might be an inspiration in the future.

For two straight weeks, Steve allowed himself to drown in memories of the past. Sam said it wasn’t healthy, not when there was a world out there he needed to accept in order to move on, but Steve just couldn’t give it up. Pictures of Bucky and Peggy adorned the walls of his living room, sketches of his mother and the men he’d known in the army were dotted between them, and Steve thought it made him feel like he was home. The thing was that people had always felt more like ‘home’ than Brooklyn in particular ever had and when Steve went to bed at night, he was still  _ alone _ in the darkness. There was some regret for the fact that he’d asked to be placed in the city instead of back in Brooklyn because he’d been wary of the memories there.

 

One morning with only three hours of sleep under his belt, Steve pushed himself out of the house for a walk because he didn’t think he had the energy to run. He wandered through the streets of the city without a goal in particular, but eventually made his way into a coffee shop near the park for a much needed shot of caffeine and some food that wasn’t frozen or delivered by someone who was now on a first name basis with him. He even chose to sit at a table outside to soak up the sun and the cool breeze, his sunglasses still in place to hide the bags under his eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d suspect some kind of vitamin deficiency as well. He just wasn’t taking care of himself the way he should have been.

It was right there that he saw her. Sitting a few tables away was a woman so alluring that Steve stopped mid-bite and set his food down so he could watch her. She was younger than him; Steve was looking forward to his thirty fourth birthday and she had to be in her early twenties, maybe twenty five or so. She had red, wavy hair that fell to her shoulders and soft, plump lips and a beautifully delicate nose, but it was the way she moved that really drew him in. It was like there was something otherworldly about her, like no matter how hard Steve tried, he’d never be able to associate something so beautiful with the world he was sitting in, the world he knew to be cruel and dark and unfair. 

He watched as she sat back and checked something on her phone for a moment before pulling a book out of her bag and opening it up on the table in front of her while she sipped her drink. It was still very early, but it looked like she was coming home instead of starting the day, somehow. Maybe it was the smudged makeup on her eyes or the way she yawned as she read; whatever it might be, Steve wanted to know more about her. Where was she coming from? Did she have family here? Was there someone who was lucky enough to call her a friend, or more?

He wanted to talk to her. At this point, he hadn’t even made the leap from admiration to physical desire; he just thought she was the most beautiful thing he could ever possibly hope to see. She was beautiful in that he wanted to draw every line of her face, every curve of her body. He wanted to know her in the most intimate way he could: he wanted to draw her at her most vulnerable and he didn’t have the energy to think about how that might sound out loud. All he knew was that he’d been drawing the same couple of people in black and white for weeks on end and right now, all he wanted to do was find the perfect red to match this stranger’s hair, the perfect pink for her lips, the perfect green for her eyes.

Steve was practically overcome with the desire to just walk up to her table and ask her if she knew how beautiful she was, but he stayed put and sipped his coffee and  _ stared _ , grateful for the sunglasses that might just hide where his gaze happened to be. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what he might realistically say to her.

The waitress had just set down his bill when the woman moved and Steve acted entirely on instinct. He set down a couple of tens to cover his food and the service, stuffed his wallet back into his pants, and followed her out of the cafe at what he deemed to be a safe distance. There wasn’t any time to really consider how weird this was because all Steve could think about was the fact that he happened to be born in the same time as someone so amazing.

“I have mace. Why are you following me?”

Fucking hell. The beautiful stranger he’d now followed down the street and around two corners because clearly the lack of social contact had turned him into some kind of fucking creep had turned on her heel and faced him from maybe ten feet away on a relatively empty sidewalk with one hand in her purse. Steve stopped dead and swallowed as she glared at him, belatedly tearing his sunglasses off and fiddling with them as he tried  _ desperately _ to find an excuse for his behavior that wouldn’t make him sound like a predator.

“I-- I’m sorry.” It felt like his voice hadn’t been used in way, way too long. Steve knew that he spoke to Sam once a week and the delivery man usually got a series of grunts and mumbled, polite thanks, but this was different. He felt  _ inadequate _ in every single way a person could possibly feel inadequate. “I didn’t mean any harm, I swear. I was just--”

“Following me,” she repeated sarcastically. “Because that’s a normal thing to do.”

Steve continued to toy with his sunglasses. “No, it’s not normal, I was just-- You’re so beautiful-- and I’m an artist-- and--”

He wasn’t an artist! What the hell was he even saying?

“I-- I’m looking to hire someone as a model.”

She stared at him and honestly, Steve couldn’t blame her. He probably looking like a fucking lunatic; considering her hand was still in her purse and probably wrapped around the aforementioned mace, she definitely didn’t trust him. Regardless of all that, he had to stick to his guns now. She’d likely write him off as a pathetic creep instead of a dangerous creep and let him off without spraying him or calling the cops; that was all he could really hope for.

“I’m real sorry, I just couldn’t work up to talking to you back at the cafe,” he said honestly. “But if you’re at all interested, I’d really like to talk to you about modeling for me. Nothing inappropriate, I swear. I wouldn’t ever ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“You’re an artist,” she said slowly. “How do I know you’re not just some axe murderer who wants to wear my skin or some shit?”

Steve swallowed. “I can draw you something?” He tried. “Anything you want.”

As the woman sized him up, Steve wondered what he looked like right now. Could she tell he hadn’t slept properly in weeks? Did she know that the red around his eyes was from crying and not from weed? Did the wrinkles in his jeans and the lines on his face tell her just how fucked up his was in the head? How unkempt did he really look to other people?

“What are you paying?”

What? Oh. Right, the job. Steve tried to consider his finances for a second and eventually blurted out a number he thought was appropriate for what he wanted her to do. “I’ll give you $100 a day for six hours of modeling. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I can give.”

She looked like she was actually considering his proposal and Steve didn’t know whether that meant she really needed the money, or she was kind of foolish. “I still want you to prove it,” she said, but she also took her hand out of her purse and glanced around until she spotted another coffee shop. “In there. I have paper.”

They stepped into the coffee shop together and Steve watched as the stranger led them to a small table in the corner. With other people around, she relaxed a little bit and Steve felt less like a creep, but still pretty guilty for having followed her around watching the way her hair moved in the breeze. Under his gaze, she pulled out a small notebook and turned to a blank page before sliding the book over to him and offering up a pen as well.

“Draw something.”

Steve found it hard to actually focus on the paper, but he managed to draw a little cartoon of himself apologizing to the goddess that was sitting with him and watching him so carefully that he could feel her eyes on him. It felt like she was examining his very soul. By the time he slid the book back over to her with that and a few flowers sketched around it, he was nearly sweating with how nervous he felt. Shit, she probably thought it was stupid.

He watched in fascination as his beautiful stranger took a moment to look at the drawing with her arms crossed on the table in front of her. Steve’s leg began to shake while he waited for the verdict. If she liked it, he might actually have a model.

“It’s good,” she told him, closing the book as she leaned back and crossed her legs at the knee while she considered him. “So you’re really an artist.”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Well. Sort of. I’m an amateur artist.” And a fucking nutcase, but she didn’t need to know that. He was totally harmless, after all. “Um, what’s your name?”

She smirked at him and Steve could have sworn his heart actually stopped for a second there. “Natasha,” she said. “Natasha Romanova. It’s nice to know you weren’t following me with murder in mind.”

“Oh, God. No, I promise,” he said quickly. “I promise, I wasn’t thinking about murder, or anything else like that.” He paused. “I’m Steve Rogers, and I hope you can forget all about the creep factor and let me start over.”

“I’ll think about forgetting it,” she answered patiently. “But for now, I really have to get home. Where’s your studio and when should I be there?”

Steve chewed on his lower lip. “I… don’t have a studio,” he admitted. “Just my apartment.”

Natasha looked at him suspiciously, but ultimately nodded. “I’m going to need your ID,” she said sweetly. “For safety purposes.”

Right. Steve pulled out his wallet and showed her his driver’s license and his military ID as well. She glanced at him for a moment, snapped a picture of both, and slid them right back over to him. “Alright,” she said bluntly, already grabbing her bag and getting back up so they could leave. “Give me your phone.”

Steve followed suit and handed it right over to her without question. He watched as she typed her number in, then sent herself a text so she had his number as well.

“All done,” she said as they hit the sidewalk again. “I’ll be at your place tomorrow at nine. I expect to be paid in cash, and I’m not taking my clothes off. Do you understand?”

“Really?” Steve blinked. “I mean, that’s great! Yes, I understand completely. Cash, no nudity, and see you at nine.” He offered her a warm smile no matter how awkward he felt about all this.  

Natasha arched an eyebrow at him. “See you at nine,” she answered. “Boss.”

And that was it. Steve was left there on the sidewalk to watch her walk away. With his hands tucked into his pockets and her hair blowing in the breeze, he almost felt hopefully. This might work out for him. Even on the long walk back home, he had to admit that he felt a little lighter than he usually did--- but arriving back at his apartment meant facing the dozens of drawings on his walls and the knowledge that if he wanted Natasha to come more than once, he was going to have to do something about them.


	2. Erato; Muse of Lyric Poetry

Most of Steve’s life had been spent drawing things from memory. Bucky had hated sitting for him, he’d never really gotten the chance to ask Peggy… The last person who’d modeled for him was his mother. With that in mind, he was overwhelmed with inspiration halfway through tearing various drawings off his walls and sat down at his easel again to get Natasha down from memory. It was a tough job considering how brief their encounter had been, but he mixed paints until he was satisfied and the whole thing was something of a blur until he sat back to take in the finished product.

He wasn’t arrogant, but he… he loved it. As he wiped the sweat from his forehead and left a smudge of paint there, he knew that he’d made the right decision in asking Natasha to model for him. If she could bring out this much of a reaction in him after a short conversation, then he had no doubt he’d be able to find something in her that he wanted to draw when she showed up the next day. But the canvas he’d painted was something he wanted to display; it would remind him that there was still beauty in the world no matter how awful things could get.

 

 

That night, he managed exactly four hours and three minutes of sleep before there was no point in trying anymore. Steve had cleaned up the living room and tidied the rest of the apartment as much as he could, but it still looked lived in and just a little messy. He managed to force himself outside again and went for a walk that ended just as the sun was peeking up through the buildings around him, showered, ate breakfast, and sat on the couch to wait for her.

Eight twenty three.

Shit.

Drumming his fingers on his thighs, Steve thought about what he might say when he saw her again. It wasn’t like he could make a worse impression than he had last time; he had  _ followed _ her, after all. Still, what exactly was he going to say? Should he ask her to pose in a certain way, or just draw her naturally? Beyond that, shouldn’t he have some kind of a plan? What materials was he going to use? Would she want to know what the fuck he was doing living alone and preying on strangers in coffee shops? Would she ask questions?

He was beginning to panic. This had all been awful mistake; bringing someone else into his fucked up life could really only lead to bad things. She wasn’t going to understand him, things would get awkward, and he would be left feeling even worse than before. And what if  _ she _ was the dangerous one? What if she robbed him? What if she’d already given his address to someone else who would come in and take every little worthless thing he had? What if--

Someone knocked and Steve had to suck in a deep, deep breath before standing up. He knew he was being over dramatic, but that didn’t make the twisting in his stomach go away.

 

_ Okay, Rogers. Deep breath. Try not to make an ass of yourself. _

 

Steve opened the door to find Natasha patiently waiting just outside and it was like he’d been punched in the stomach. She got more beautiful every time he saw her; even his stomach calmed at the sight of her, though he was sure that wouldn’t last. Her hair was down again and falling in gentle waves to her shoulders. He wanted to touch it and find out if it was as soft as it looked, but he held back on that and swallowed down the first thing he wanted to say (“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”) in favor of something a little more normal.

“Hey, it’s good to see you again.” Nailed it.

“You too,” she answered, glancing into his apartment. “And look at you, not an ax in sight.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t keep an ax in sight if I were…” He made a face and shook his head. “Please come in. Can I take your coat? Would you like a drink…?”

Natasha stepped inside and unbuttoned her coat so he could hang it up. She also kicked off the boots she was wearing and Steve found himself impressed that she was so bold rather than thrown off; it was in moments like these that he fooled himself into tiny fits of optimism.

“I’m okay on the drink,” she mused, padding into his living room like she owned the place while he trailed after her. “So, this is what an artist’s place looks like? I figured there would be more of a mess.”

Steve laughed a little too loudly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you know what they say about soldiers,” he mused. “Everything neat and tidy.”

Natasha gave him a funny look, but she caught sight of the painting he’d done the night before and immediately turned her attention to that instead. She even crouched down in front of it and reached out to trace the tips of her fingers over one of the lines.

“You did this yesterday?” She asked. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, I wanted to try from memory,” he admitted. “I’m not sure I can do you justice.”

Natasha stood up and turned to face him. “I think you did just fine.” She smiled and moved away, eyeing the couch for a moment. “Where is it that you want me? I’m not sure how this works. Also, it’d be a great show of faith if you gave me half now, half later.”

Right, back to business. Steve considered her for a moment and decided that if he was going to draw her, he wanted it to be  _ her _ , not whatever he was putting into her. “Just make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the living room before fumbling with his wallet to pull out two crisp twenties and a ten to hand them over. “I want it to be candid, just whatever you feel like doing. Uh, but if you could warn me before you move, that would be great.”

While he continued to speak to her, he grabbed a large drawing pad and set his charcoals out so he had something to work with. He had always been more of a pencil kind of guy, but Natasha’s dramatic lines made him want to work with something a little more real. Once he was ready, he sat back and watched Natasha strip off her scarf and land on the couch lengthwise, with her legs crossed and her arms almost artfully folded on the arm of the sofa over her head. With her whole body stretched out for him, Steve was just speechless for a moment. She really was beautiful, but again, it was so much more than that. He could see her confidence in the way she met his gaze in a silent challenge and her intelligence in the knowing smirk she gave him as well.

He was working in a heartbeat, his hand flying over the paper as he tried to get every single detail of his subject down on paper. The first draft was shit, but he gained his confidence and tried again for the second with much better results. The thing was that without an actual goal, he was able to focus on whatever spoke to him the most; that is, he started with her whole body, then zoned in on her face regardless of the fact that she stared right back at him. At some point, she told him she was thirsty and he followed her into the kitchen, where he quickly sketched out what she looked like taking a drink of water. He noted the way her throat moved each time she swallowed, the way her lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle, and the way her hand looked as she held it.

 

It was when Natasha set down her bottle of water that she turned to him and cocked her head to the side. Steve did a double take before he realized that she wasn’t looking away and she wasn’t moving out of the room, instead deciding to take a seat across from him at the table.

“Can I ask you something?”

Steve immediately tensed up, but there was no conceivable way to deny her. “Yeah, sure.”

“Have you ever had anyone modeling for you before?”

Was it that obvious? “No, I haven’t,” he admitted. “I’ve drawn people before, but they weren’t modeling for me. It wasn’t the same.”

Natasha tipped her head to the side. “So why me?”

Steve wished he could explain it without sounding like an idiot. “Because… sometimes it’s really hard to find beauty in a world like this,” he shrugged, dropping his gaze as he rubbed his thumb along a particular line to smudge it a little bit. “It was like you parted the storm clouds or something.”

The look on her face was hard to pinpoint, to be honest. Steve hazarded a short glance up at her, but ultimately kept his eyes on his drawing instead. Thankfully, Natasha seemed to get the idea and stood back up again. “I’m thinking I might curl up with a book,” she suggested. “If that’s okay.”

Steve looked up again and smiled. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

For the next couple of hours, Steve drew Natasha in various positions on the couch. She curled up at first, but eventually moved to lay on her stomach. He sketched the way she chewed on her thumbnail and the way her shirt rode up just enough to reveal a strip of skin on her back. When she switched it up to lay on her back, he focused not just on the swell of her breasts, but the way her chest moved as she breathed and the way her hair fanned out on the pillow. By the time she sat up with her back against the arm of the sofa and her knees pulled up, he was content sketching the way her hands held the book and the curves of her legs, but he also dedicated nearly five pages just to her eyes and her brows, which were drawn in tight to focus on the story.

It was over too quickly. Steve’s fingers ached, but he would have gone on drawing Natasha for hours more. Still, at three on the dot she looked up and gave him a smile. “Not even one attempt to get me to take my clothes off,” she quipped. “You’re shaping up to be a pretty good guy, Steve.”

“All because I didn’t make a move on you?” He asked. “What kind of guys have you been dating?” Pause. “Not—Not that we’re dating, I was just—That is, I mean…”

Natasha laughed softly as she stood up and pulled her shirt down into place. “In my experience, men have a way of being disappointing,” she explained. “You’re doing okay so far. Try not to fuck it up.”

Steve nodded very seriously. “I promise; I’ll try my best not to fuck it up.”

She reached up and patted his cheek twice before moving away to pull her boots on and get ready to leave. Steve handed her the other half of her pay and slid his hands into his pockets while she buttoned her coat up again. “I guess I’ll be seeing you,” she said. “Text me when you want to meet up again.”

“Thank you,” he blurted out before she left. “Um. For trusting me enough to do this. Thank you.”

Natasha looked back at him and she gave him that same, questioning look he’d been seeing from time to time over the course of their acquaintance. “You’re welcome,” she said simply. “It was my pleasure, and the easiest hundred bucks I’ve ever made.”

Steve was glad she hadn’t found it creepy because he fully intended to invite her over again. If he was being entirely honest with himself, he knew that he would have loved to do a session or two with less clothing if only because he would be able to get her down on paper without anything hindering him, but he wouldn’t ask until they were more comfortable. Even then, all she had to do was say no and he’d drop it. But he had drawn one or two nude models in the past, back in that one year of art school after Bucky had gone into the army and he’d graduated high school, and it had been a really amazing study.

Once he was alone again, he went back to reconsider the sketches he’d done that day and came to a solid conclusion: Natasha was like the answer to all his prayers. She was inspiration personified and she didn’t even seem to know that about herself. Maybe that added to her charm, or maybe it was in the quiet confidence she had that he found something to cling to. She knew where she was in this life; Steve was going to live vicariously through someone who already had it all figured out.

Sam was obviously elated that he’d made a connection to the outside world and he listened with interest as Steve described her. He’d even brought in one of his sketches to show Sam that he was creating something and not wallowing in his own misery; at least not all the time.

“That’s great, man. You think you’re gonna ask her out again?”

Steve started. “It’s not like that,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “She’s my model, not my girlfriend.”

“You’ve gotta start somewhere, right? You can’t tell me you aren’t attracted to her.”

Steve looked down at the drawing sitting on the table between them and sighed. “Of course I’m attracted to her,” he admitted. “Look at her. But it’s not a sexual thing, okay? I just think she’s beautiful. It’s like… It’s like seeing a really beautiful sunset. Your breath kind of catches and for a second there, everything’s right in the world because if something that magnificent can exist, then maybe we’ve still got a chance.”

Sam tipped his head to the side and nodded. “That’s some deep shit.”

“Yeah, I’m probably a little too dramatic today. Don’t mind me.”

“Look, I think it’s great that you’ve found someone to spend time with, okay? No matter what the relationship is, she’s clearly good for you.” Sam sat back a little and nodded. “Really good for you,” he added. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smiling like that.”

Steve actually reached up to touch his own lips and realized that he was smiling; he was smiling like he was content or something, like he hadn’t been through anything and his whole world was at peace. He was smiling like he hadn’t woken up with a nightmare just the night before and wandered the city until the sun came up. It was a nice realization, to be honest. Maybe he was finally doing something right.

 

The next time Natasha came over, it was raining outside.

Steve welcomed her with promises of heat and offers of hot chocolate, which she accepted. As he put water up to boil on the stove, she sat behind him at the kitchen table and he could feel her eyes on him. If he wasn’t careful, she might actually notice the slope of his shoulders and the bags under his eyes and ask him what was wrong. That was one conversation he desperately wanted to avoid.

“I was thinking,” she said at some point. Steve turned around to face her. “It’s going to get awfully boring for you drawing me just lying around. Is there… something about me in particular you’d want to focus on? Because we could make that happen.”

Steve once again swallowed down the response that would no doubt have her marching out of his apartment never to return and tried something different. “I was thinking about your hair,” he said cautiously. “There’s a lot of detail and there are a lot of ways it could be drawn…” But the color and the contrast between her pale skin and the stark red would really pop in a painting if he did it the right way.

“My hair,” she echoed. “What about making this time all about my hair, instead of my face?”

“I’d be happy to see whatever you have in mind. Honestly, I’d rather let you pose than tell you what to do. It’s more organic that way.” And that way, he didn’t have to risk saying something untoward.

“I think I’ve got something in mind, once we finish our—“ She glanced pointedly at the one mug of hot chocolate he set down on the table and cautiously took it between her hands to warm up. “You’re not having any?”

Steve shook his head and smiled. “I’m warm enough already.”

“You’re a weird guy, Steve.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I know.”

She was about halfway through her drink when she decided that it was time to get going. “You wait here,” she told him. “And I’ll get myself ready inside, okay?”

The very thought of protesting was so ridiculous that Steve nearly laughed out loud. “Okay.”

He waited almost seven whole minutes (Steve would know, as he’d been obsessively checking his phone for the time every couple of seconds.) before Natasha called him to come inside and he immediately got to his feet. Thinking about trying paint that day, Steve was caught entirely off guard when he entered the room to find Natasha sitting on the sofa with her back to him, her hair pulled up into a haphazard knot on top of her head with a few tendrils spilling down the back of her neck. She was still wearing her bra, but other than that she was bare from the waist up and Steve couldn’t stop himself from staring.

“Is this okay?”

She really was remarkable; the only way Steve could make peace with the way she looked was to imagine that she was some kind of fallen goddess. Maybe stories like that were true. Maybe the gods were just people living among mankind, maybe the Greeks had it right all along.

“Y-Yeah,” he answered belatedly. “Mhm. Yeah. Of course. Yes.”

He could see her lips quirk up just a little bit when she turned her head to the side. “So that’s a yes?”

Steve huffed and ducked his head bashfully. 

“Sorry, yes,” he said, going right for his easel and a brand new canvas to work with, then the set of watercolor paints he’d purchased. Natasha would be beautiful in any medium, but he had to use watercolors for this.  

When he sat down, he began immediately. There was so much to consider: the slope of her back, the way her waist nipped in, and the fact that there was this little line that told him she was soft to the touch. He considered how she had a couple of stretch lines on her side and the way he could see a hint of her earring and the delicate slope of her nose when she turned her head. Attention was paid to every little detail, but it was when Natasha lifted her arms to fiddle with her hair that he just knew that was what he wanted down on paper; she looked every bit the goddess he imagined she might be.

Six hours and Steve had managed to produce two pieces: one featured Natasha’s entire torso and was done all in pencil after he’d gotten the initial reaction down with watercolors, but the painting that he’d begun with was what made Steve proud. It was only from her shoulder blades up, but it had come out in such a way that it made Natasha look like she was relaxed and happy- at least that was the impression Steve got from it.

 

 

“Do you like it?” He asked as she pulled her shirt back on. “You don’t have to spare my feelings.”

Natasha turned back to him and moved to stand beside him so she could see what he’d done. “To be clear, I wouldn’t have spared your feelings anyway,” she said. “But I do like it. You paint me in a very flattering light.”

“I just paint what I see,” he told her. “No embellishments.”

Natasha’s eyes were on him in a second and she lifted her hand, eventually tracing the tips of her fingers over right eyebrow and smiling. “You have paint on your face,” she told him. “It’s a good look for you.”

Steve swallowed and everything else was a blur. Natasha dressed as usual, accepted Steve’s cash payment, and grabbed her umbrella. “Listen, I won’t be available on Halloween. But other than that, I’m pretty much free. Let me know, okay?”

Steve felt like he was repeating himself a little too much. Maybe she wanted him to actually give some kind of input, but every time she left him it was like all the light was sucked right out of the room.

“Okay. Thank you, Natasha.”

 

That night, Steve couldn’t get any appropriate amount of rest. He tossed and turned for hours before waking up in a cold sweat and deciding that rest wasn’t worth seeing flashes of Bucky’s face as he’d fallen to his death. Instead, he went for a long run around the park and came back feeling exhausted enough to pass out on the couch for an hour or two. It wasn’t healthy, but it was better than nothing.

There was no way to predict this kind of thing, but the next week of Steve’s life was just bullshit. His sleeping had been kept to a bare minimum, but that meant that passing out in the living room when he stood up too fast was something of a norm. Even eating had become a chore; nothing tasted very good and half the time Steve found that it was just too much trouble to get up and cook. He lived on a steady diet of pizza and beer, and he thanked his lucky fucking stars that he had a fast metabolism and the urge to run most mornings or do push ups at 2AM.

Sometimes things got really dark for him. On Friday at three in the afternoon, Steve seriously contemplated whether or not life was worth living if this was all he could ever achieve. Everything was so hard and he was so tired… Moving was a chore. Eating was a chore. Existing had started to feel like a chore and honestly, that just wasn’t how life was supposed to be. He was contemplating how he might end things when he caught sight of his paintings of Natasha across the room and just immediately started to cry. Was it ever going to get easier?

 

Two weeks had passed by the time he got up the courage to text Natasha again. She agreed to come over again and Steve typed out about fifteen different replies before sending a quick thank you and rolling his eyes at the exclamation point he’d added. This time, on their third session together, he decided to just jump the gun and ask her if she would be comfortable posing for him wearing a sheet to cover her; obviously he understood why anyone would hesitate, but he’d throw it out there and if she said no, then that was it. He wasn’t going to argue with her. Honestly, he didn’t think he could even if he wanted to.

It was nice out and she was wearing just a red tshirt and a brown cardigan underneath her jacket. Her hair was pinned up as well, he noted. She usually wore it down and he decided he preferred it that way, not that this way wasn’t perfectly fine as well. Once they’d exchanged greetings, Steve offered her a drink and asked her to sit with him in the kitchen, where he set down a tray of Italian cookies from the bakery around the corner. She looked amused and a little suspicious, but she took one anyway.

“I wanted to run something by you, but you need to know that I’ll respect whatever decision you make.”

Natasha blinked and raised her eyebrows at him, but otherwise remained entirely calm. “Okay, let me hear it.”

Steve gathered his courage and rubbed both sweaty palms over his thighs. “I know you said no nudity when we started this,” he began. “And if you want to stick to that, then I’m not going to argue.”

She wasn’t storming out yet, so Steve soldiered on. “But… if you can bear the thought,” he continued. “I swear to God, it’s not just so I can see you naked. I want to do this right. I figured, if you want to, we could start with a sheet and see how you feel after that.”

Natasha pressed her lips together. “It’s a big jump from sitting around and posing, and stripping down for you,” she reminded him. “You understand that, right?”

Steve nodded quickly. “I do,” he confirmed. “I know it’s huge. I think I could give you fifty more each time…”

“It’s not all about the money.”

Right. Steve ducked his head a little bit. “What would make you feel better about it?”

Natasha lowered her gaze and thought about it for a minute. “You said it’s not just about seeing me naked,” she reiterated. “You’re telling me you don’t get any kind of sexual pleasure out of this?”

Oh, God, did she think he’d been getting off to this all along? “Not really,” he answered. “It’s like…” This was going to be hard to explain. “You’re very attractive and I know that you’re beautiful, but the act of painting someone doesn’t have to be a sexual experience. I’ve painted nude models before and it’s surprisingly casual.”

He huffed out a breath to try and tone down the blushing because yeah, he was a little embarrassed. “I like you,” he blurted out. “As a person. I think we get along really well and you…” Shit, how was he supposed to say that she was the one bright spot in his entire life without actually saying that? “You’re the first good thing I’ve had in a long time,” he tried. “I’m sorry, I know that sounds weird.”

Natasha was quiet for a couple of moments before smirking lightly. “Wow. And here I thought you were jerking off after I left or something,” she mused. “I figured, well, everyone’s got their little things. This is a little different.”

Steve looked horrified. “I’ve never—I would never—“

“Calm down, Steve, it’s not a crime,” she laughed. “You’re a good guy, I can see that. And obviously I was okay with coming back when I thought you were doing it, so… I’m not sure what that says about me.”

“People have done worse things for money,” he reasoned. “Much worse.”

She nodded along and eventually shrugged. “What the hell. You’re not the worst person I’ve let see me naked. And you’re definitely the most flattering.”

Steve smiled widely. “Really? You’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it. But we’re starting with the sheet first.”

 


	3. Euterpe; Muse of Music

Once Steve had given Natasha free reign of his closet to find the sheet she wanted to wear, he set up his easel in the living room and chose to use his watercolor paints again. The first result had been so wonderful that he almost couldn’t wait to use them again; as anxious as he was about all of this, he fully intended to use this time to his advantage because the fact was that she might not ever do it again.

“Ah-ha!” Nearly jumping in surprise, Steve looked up to find Natasha showing him a blanket from his mom’s house; it was soft and big enough for two people, and she apparently loved it. “This is perfect,” she said. “It’ll keep me warm.”

Steve thought she was even more beautiful when she smiled. “I’m glad you found something,” he said. “Any way you want to do it, I’m not looking for anything in particular.”

Natasha turned and marched into the bathroom, leaving Steve to ready himself for what was about to happen. It wasn’t as though he’d never seen a naked woman before, but this was different, just like he’d said. He was already overwhelmed by Natasha in general; the idea that he would be able to see her with just a blanket wrapped around her was nearly unreal. It felt like the blanket only added to the intrigue because it still kept some things a mystery.

All that preparation flew right out the window when the door opened and Natasha stepped out again. She still had her hair up, but she was barefoot and padding into the living room with nothing but that red blanket wrapped haphazardly around her naked body. Steve had to remind himself to breath again because even her toes poking out from under the hem of the blanket were enough to pretty much put him in a trance.

“You know, I was thinking,” Natasha said as she moved right past him- and past the couch. “A little music might make this a little easier. What do you have here?”

She was perusing the his collection of records when the blanket dropped a little bit to show off the smooth curve of her back and just below that. It hinted at what lay beneath, but only just. Steve felt like his lungs were shriveling up inside him, but all he could do to combat that feeling was pick up his brush and begin. Of course, she was still talking. Natasha was saying something about introducing him to the world of modern music, but eventually the smooth voices of Frank and Nancy Sinatra filled the room and Steve finally looked up from his easel to meet her gaze.

“I love this one,” he said. “Could you just stay there?”

Natasha smiled and nodded before turning her back to him again and continuing to peruse his collection as the blanket slipped a little more. She looked so comfortable, like nothing in the world could bother her or deter her from what she was doing. And what a picture she made; Natasha looked at home where she was, with the blanket drooping enough to show him the curve of her breast from the side. She kept her face turned away from him, but that was alright because the painting he was working on would be faceless. He would pour everything he knew about her into it and hope that he managed to get just a touch of her presence down on the canvas.

For a while, he focused on the way her shoulder blades moved under her skin, the taut line of her neck when she turned, the way the blanket fit around her. But there was more. He put her on the side of the canvas instead of at the center because it felt like she didn’t need to be in the middle to demand every single bit of the attention. She was beautiful enough to steal it anyway and with empty space beside her, it felt like she wasn’t even trying.

The song that played only made it a little harder for Steve to look at her, like she was shining too brightly for him to bear it. It was stupid, he reminded himself. He couldn’t love her; love wasn’t that simple. And he wasn’t in the right shape to love anyone, even if he did feel like he’d lay his life on the line if she needed him to. He’d lay his life on the line if she  _ wanted _ him to.

 

 

“It’s beautiful.”

Steve sighed a little as Doris Day began to sing. “You really think so?”

Natasha turned a little and nudged his arm, all while still clinging to the blanket wrapped around her. “I really do,” she answered. “Well worth getting all wrapped up in a blanket for you.”

“I really appreciate you trusting me like this. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“I was actually thinking about something while you were painting,” she mused. “What are you going to do with all these paintings and drawings…? Are you going to sell them?”

Steve actually averted his gaze not because he was embarrassed, but because he hadn’t actually thought about that. Should he try to sell them? Maybe, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t as easy as that. “I hadn’t thought about it,” he admitted. “I’ve been applying for jobs as an illustrator, but all they said was that I should work on my portfolio.”

Natasha hummed a little bit and considered the painting again. “They don’t know what they’re missing out on,” she said easily. “I think you’re very talented. I’m almost sorry I’m not in a position to get you out there, but then… I probably wouldn’t be your model.”

“Then there probably wouldn’t be anything to even try to sell,” he chuckled. “I didn’t really start going at this again until after I met you. Not like this, at least.”

“You weren’t drawing before?”

Steve shook his head a little. “No, I… tried, but it just wasn’t working for me.”

Natasha tipped her head to the side and for a second there, Steve felt like she was looking right into his soul. “Well, good thing you found me, then,” she decided. “Do you want to do another one?”

“Yeah, I’d like that. Would you mind laying on the couch?”

She didn’t mind. Steve set in to draw her as Doris Day continued on to song number two and found himself nearly humming along as he drew her, this time in charcoal. They’d been mostly silent so far, but it would seem that Natasha had decided she wanted to know more about him and so, she spoke up not five minutes into her second pose of the day.

“So, what’s a handsome guy like you doing living all on his own and following strange women on the street?” The question caught Steve off guard and the way his head snapped up made Natasha smile.

“Let’s just say I’ve been busy the last couple of years. Haven’t exactly had the time to find someone,” he explained; that was the simplest reason he could possibly give.

It didn’t seem like Natasha was satisfied with that. Even as she landed in a heap on the couch with the blanket wrapped securely around her, it felt like she wanted more and Steve was impossibly compelled to give her what she wanted.

“I was in the hospital,” he admitted. “For a while.”

Natasha crossed her legs and gave him an encouraging look. “Go on.”

Right. “I was in a coma,” he said. “For seven years. Recently woke up just a couple of months ago.” Steve didn’t know what to expect from her as far as her reaction went; Sam had been briefed on the situation beforehand and since Steve didn’t really speak to anyone else, he hadn’t dealt with too many reactions. “I heard it was in the papers or something. Finding me, bringing me home.”

“That was you?” Natasha looked more than a little surprised, maybe even a little concerned.

Sam had told him all about how his story had made it into the papers while he was recovering; MIA for a year, then suddenly found and brought home only to slip into a steady coma. Before he’d been identified, they called him ‘Captain America’ thanks to the uniform and the rank on the arm. His tags had gone missing somewhere nearby and were only recovered later on. Steve had been lauded as some kind of hero for what he’d done, but he’d managed to skip the ceremony for his medals and preferred to just stay out of it from now on. He’d lost a lot being in the army; some might say he’d lost a lot more than he’d gained. He didn’t regret fighting for his country, but… well, he wished that things had gone differently.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “That was me. So, that’s why. I just haven’t had time.”

Natasha nodded slowly, averting her gaze and considering something in silence for a moment while Steve looked on. “I’m glad you’re alright now,” she told him. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

Steve shrugged. “Hard,” he admitted. Talking to Natasha wasn’t quite as difficult as he thought it might be. Was that just because he was so drawn to her? Maybe he wanted to get it off his chest and let her know the kind of life he was living so she wouldn’t think he was weird for no reason. “But I’m hoping none of that gets in the way of what I’m trying to do here with you,” he added. “I don’t want it to bleed into my art anymore.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Then we won’t let it.”

He lifted his gaze again and watched her shift her position until she was laying down with the blanket covering the necessary parts-- and leaving most of her legs bare. “Did you want to draw again?”

Yes. Steve nodded and grabbed pencil this time, fully intent upon getting as much detail down as he possibly could. The watercolor would remain his favorite, but there were just so many dimensions to Natasha that he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of drawing her.

 

“Steve, it’s important that you realize that this could be considered a coping mechanism. Attaching yourself to someone in such a way that you’re a passive party and not opening yourself up is just another way to hide.”

Sam thought it was great that Steve was painting and drawing again, but it concerned him that Steve wasn’t approaching his newfound ‘partnership’ with Natasha as anything but a professional relationship. Unfortunately, he had sound reasoning.

“I told her what happened,” he protested lightly. “About the coma and everything.”

“Did you tell her about Bucky? About Peggy? About your nightmares? I know it’s hard, but having someone to trust will mean a lot in the long run.”

“I mean, I trust you. Mostly.”

“And as much as I appreciate that, believe me, I really think you need to develop  _ private _ , interpersonal relationships. You can’t live your life all alone. We need social interaction.”

“I have social interaction; I just don’t have… y’know. Physical intimacy.”

Sam gave him a look. “A lot can be said for physical intimacy,” he said knowingly. “It doesn’t have to be sex, doesn’t even have to be kissing or anything like that. But… a hug wouldn’t hurt. Having someone touch your arm or your back can be a lot more comforting than anything else.”

What was he supposed to do? Ask Natasha to touch him more often? Because she’d put up with a lot of weirdness and Steve felt like that was crossing a line somewhere, maybe even several lines. Nightmares aside, insomnia aside, depression aside, he’d figure something else out without bothering Natasha.

 

The next time Natasha came over, Steve forgot she was coming. He hadn’t slept in two days and his mind was all over the place, so that wasn’t particularly surprising. Unfortunately, she’d also caught him right in the middle of yet another coping mechanism: baking. 

He’d read somewhere that baking bread could help with stress, so he looked up a couple of recipes, went to the store, and got going. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if the bread was actually going to taste good, but he’d been kneading dough on and off for nearly twelve hours hoping that at some point, it would start to help in a real way. What he actually got out of it were  _ a lot _ of loaves of bread; white, rye, whole wheat, and cinnamon raisin. He’d taken to stacking them on the table when they came out the right way and just tossing them into the trash when they didn’t.

And in the middle of all that, Natasha knocked on the door.

Steve answered with flour all over his shirt and deep circles under his eyes. He stared at her for a long moment and swore under his breath because he really had forgotten. “Sorry, come in.”

Natasha looked mildly concerned. “Are you… What are you doing?”

“Baking.”

She raised her eyebrows and glanced into the kitchen, where the obscene pile of bread loomed back at her. “Okay. Are you baking enough for an army?”

Steve let out a long breath. “I’m not really baking for anyone.”

Natasha looked at him like she didn’t know what to say and Steve felt so defeated and embarrassed that he wanted to ask her to leave. He was so sure that she was going to let him down as easily as she possibly could and get out of there as soon as her point came across.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said instead, stepping a little closer to him and directing him towards the bathroom. “Wash your hands and change into a clean shirt, okay?”

She was like a fucking saint. Steve very nearly started to cry as they walked down the hall to the bathroom and it was all because he was  _ pathetic _ . War hero? Ha! He avoided his own reflection as he washed his face and his hands, then wandered numbly into his bedroom to change. When he came back out, his eyes were a little wet, but he was clean.

“I’m s--”

“Don’t be.”

Steve nodded once and went silent. He didn’t even know she was moving closer until her bare feet were in his line of sight and her hands came up to rest on either side of his face. Suddenly Steve understood what Sam had been saying. He leaned into her touch like she was food to a starving man and closed his eyes in the hopes that she might keep her hands there a little longer. So, this was what being touch starved felt like; it was an unconscious need for something normal people weren’t too conscious of.

Once again, Steve found himself drawn to Natasha like she was his one and only lifeline.

Opening his eyes again, he met her gaze and asked for the one thing he really wanted right now. She didn’t have to stay and she didn’t have to let him draw her today if she didn’t want. God knows he’d spent hours the day before putting her down on paper again and again; watercolors, pencils, charcoal, even acrylic paints. He just wanted this one thing. He was so desperate, he’d even pay her for it.

“Can I hug you?”

Natasha’s brows knitted together and she nodded to give him permission. That was all Steve needed because about half a second later, he had his arms wrapped around her waist as tightly as he dared. She looped her arms around his neck as well and for a while, Steve didn’t think about anything other than the fact that her hair smelled like coconut and her fingers were stroking the hair at the back of his head. He didn’t think about anything but the fact that he was right there, right now. This was his life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after some time. “I forgot you were coming. I would have cleaned up.”

Natasha shushed him and stepped a little closer. “It’s alright.”

He wanted so badly to take her word for it. The fact was that Steve’s conception of the world right now didn’t add up to Natasha’s presence in it. She was an exception just like Peggy had been; he was just privileged enough to have both miracles present in his life at one point or another. It was just that he was a little worse for wear now than he had been during basic training. 

“You- You don’t have to stay,” he told her. “I’d understand if you want to leave now, I’ll still give you the money.”

Natasha pulled back and looked up at him. “You still want to draw me?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. But I understand. I mean, you didn’t sign up for this…”

She reached up again and touched his cheek, lightly brushing her thumb over his cheekbone. “Tell me again why you chose me,” she murmured.

At this moment, Steve just didn’t have the energy to lie. “I saw you and it was like you were a reason to keep living sitting right in front of me,” he confessed. “It was like you were sent just to remind me that there’s still beauty out there even though everything feels so ugly and dark.”

Natasha let out a short breath and lowered her gaze. “Sometimes I worry you’re going to look at me and see that I’m not as special as you think I am.”

Steve was taken aback by the very idea. “That’s not going to happen,” he said confidently.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed,” she said. “You’ve dealt with enough.”

Pity was a strange thing. Steve didn’t want anyone to pity him, but he understood when someone was trying to be sympathetic. Natasha knew that he’d been through quite a lot and didn’t want him to suffer further; it was a kind sentiment and one he appreciated very much. .

“Believe me, you’ve been more to me than you realize these past couple of weeks,” he admitted with a shrug. “It’s like everything’s grey before you get here, and grey again after you leave.”

Natasha licked her lips and looked up at him again. “I think I know what you should draw today.”

 

When everything was set up, Natasha was seated on the couch with one of Steve’s sketchpads in her lap and a pencil in hand. She was going to draw him, and he was going to draw her. She couldn’t give him a rhyme or reason for why she thought this was a good idea, but Steve acquiesced without a moment of hesitation and wondered what her drawing would look like when she was all done. What did she really see when she looked at him?

Would she try to put down on paper how weary he looked? Would she do justice to the beard he’d yet to shave fully because he just couldn’t be bothered? Would she outline the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders sloped down even now?

“Steve, you’re thinking too much.”

He looked up and blinked. “Sorry,” he answered. “Sorry, you’re right.”

For now, he’d focus on  _ her _ while he had the opportunity to do so. He drew her exactly as he saw her; soft edges, wild curls, a little line between her brows from how hard she was concentrating. It wasn’t so much an interpretation of how he saw her this time, but more of a simple drawing of the woman sitting across from him. He included the buttons near the top of her shirt and the little arrow pendant she was wearing, the way she bit her lower lip as she worked, and the way she tilted her head to the side and peered up at him over the top of the sketchpad.

When they were both all done, they switched drawings at the same time and Steve took a deep breath before he looked down at what she’d drawn. Now, Natasha couldn’t draw. It was a really crude sketch and he understood that, but what caught his eye were several things she’d made sure to spend time on. First of all, she’d tried to draw defined muscles and that made him smile. Second of all, she made sure to draw him with at least a few swipes of paint on his face and his forehead. That just made him feel kind of warm. And finally, she’d drawn him with this little smile on his face; it wasn’t a wide smile, he didn’t look incredibly happy, but it was there.

“It’s awful, I know,” she laughed after a while. “But it was fun, actually.”

“You mind if I ask you about something?” She shrugged and set his drawing down to give him her full attention. “You drew me smiling,” he continued. “Why’d you choose to do it that way?”

Steve felt like he spent most of his time just pushing his way through life; smiling wasn’t something he did all the time and since his default these days was either tired or upset, he was surprised she would pick ‘happy’. 

“Oh. Well, that’s kind of how you look when you’re drawing,” she explained. “I didn’t do it justice, but you look so… content. It’s why I don’t talk all that much while you’re working, because I don’t want to get in the way of how you’re feeling.”

Considering how often he’d cried while drawing Bucky and Peggy, Steve figured there was some other factor contributing to his happiness, but he didn’t have to tell her that. “I love it,” he told her instead. “I really do. I’m going to hang this up.”

“What? You don’t have to,” she laughed. “I know it’s awful. I’m not an artist.”

“I don’t care, I love it.” Steve shrugged and tore the page right out of the book so he could pin it up above his desk nearby. “Say,  _ do _ you have any… y’know, talents like this? Things you’re good at?” He felt like he barely knew her; any information he could get would only add to his fascination with her, but that was beside the point.

“Well, I can dance,” she offered with a shrug. “I was a ballerina when I was younger.”

Steve smiled right away just from imagining Natasha in a tutu and tights. God, she’d make a beautiful dancer, wouldn’t she? He ultimately assumed that Natasha was good at anything she set her mind to; she could have drawn him as a frog and he still would have put the picture up.

“Don’t look at me like that, I know it’s pretty lame to only have one little talent you don’t even use anymore,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve danced like that.”

Steve made the bold decision to sit on the other end of the couch with her. “Why’s that?”

Natasha smiled and it was different from all the other smiles he’d seen. She looked like she was haunted by something. “I guess I just don’t have the time,” she answered. “Life gets in the way. Once you’re my age, dreams of dancing on stage are pretty much thrown out the window. I’d have to get back into shape and hope someone might give me a chance, do my time in the chorus before even hoping for a starring role…” She shrugged. “I’d be retiring before I really got out there.”

“At least there’s other dancing, right?” He offered. She just looked so sad; he would do anything to give her what she wanted. God knows that if he’d been a richer man, he would have been giving her gifts instead of all he could afford.

Natasha huffed out a laugh. “Of course,” she said. “Other dancing.”

Steve swallowed. “Do you think you’d be willing to show me the ballet?”


	4. Terpischore; Muse of Dance

As their sessions were becoming more comfortable and far less structured, Steve was elated to find out that yes, Natasha would be more than happy to show him what she could still do. She showed up on their next scheduled day with a duffel bag over her shoulder and her hair tied back in a tight bun. 

“Before you say anything, I’m definitely out of practice,” she announced as she stepped inside.

Steve closed the door and wordlessly followed her into the living room, where she set her bag down and plopped onto the couch. “I tried a little a few days ago, then again last night. And I’m telling you, it’s not all that impressive anymore.”

“Natasha, I want you to take my word for it when I say that I’m impressed by  _ anyone’s _ dancing skills,” he quipped. “I don’t know how to dance, so. I’m not judging you, believe me.”

She turned to give him an unimpressed look. “Just because you aren't trained doesn't mean you can't dance. Anyone can dance.”

Steve shrugged. “I wouldn't really know. Beyond dancing with my ma in the kitchen as a kid, I've never really tried.”

Natasha blinked. “You've never danced?”

“Nope, but I'm definitely looking forward to watching  _ you _ dance.” He took a seat as usual and readied his sketchbook and his charcoals; honestly, he wasn't sure which was the best medium to use. All he knew was that she was going to look beautiful and that this would be totally new for him. Putting that kind of movement down on paper wasn't something he'd ever done before.

She seemed distracted for a moment by the idea that Steve hadn’t danced, but she ultimately stood up, unzipped her hoodie, and tossed it onto the couch behind her. She was wearing all black underneath; tights, a leotard, and a sheer, black skirt tied neatly around her waist. The very second she sat down on the floor and began to pull a pair of satin shoes on one at a time, Steve began to draw her. The movement was already beautiful. Natasha’s legs were bent so gracefully and so effortlessly-- he couldn’t imagine how it was going to get any better, but he knew it absolutely would.

Once she’d pulled her shoes on, Natasha stood up and settled one hand on the wall while she stretched, settling each foot on the flat part near her toes and bending back and forth to get ready. Steve watched in silence as he sketched bits and pieces here and there. He couldn’t quite get down a whole picture, but he’d finish them later. Right now, he wanted to capture the spirit of what was going on in front of him.

The temptation was to give everything he was drawing very soft edges. Natasha’s movements were so fluid that anything else felt like a falsehood, but when she lifted one leg up over her head and held it there to stretch, Steve knew sharp lines had to be added in somewhere. Maybe it was just because of the defined lines of her face; her jaw, her brow, the razor straight line of her leg. Either way, Steve drew her as fast as he could knowing that he’d come back to it later on and make it look the way it ought to. Later on, when he was alone, he could give each drawing the time and attention it deserved.

“Okay,” Natasha sighed as she finished her stretching and Steve quickly flipped to a blank page to start yet another drawing. “Are you ready? Anything you want to see again, you let me know at the end and I can hold it for a while.”

Steve nodded. “Got it,” he promised. “I’m really looking forward to this.”

Natasha gave him a look. “Let’s hope I don’t disappoint.” She wandered over to his stereo and popped a CD in before taking her place in the newly cleared space in his living room.

The music that began wasn’t exactly what Steve had expected. It wasn’t sweet or light or anything of the kind; in fact, it was rather harsh music and her movements matched flawlessly. Steve found that it was easier to justify blurred lines and edges considering how unbelievably smooth her transitions were. He even recognized the song from somewhere, though he wasn’t one hundred percent sure where from. As Natasha danced, he imagined her up on a stage with a huge audience gathered to see her. He imagined the tutu she might wear, the way her movements would be the only thing in the whole room that anyone was looking at. There would be a spotlight on her and it would shine through the soft layers of her skirt as she moved.

As the music played on, Natasha’s movements became a little more complicated- or so it seemed. Honestly, she made everything she was doing look so easy that Steve could hardly tell. But as she leapt around and lifted her leg to the point where her toes were pointed straight up to the ceiling, she knew one thing for sure: she was talented, and more talented even now than she’d said. By the time she twisted herself into an elegant bow as the song came to an end, Steve basically rushed to drop his sketchpad and applauded her because she deserved that and more.

“That was amazing!” He enthused. “Seriously, that was so great, Natasha, I had no idea you were so talented!”

Natasha looked pleased. She stood up and smiled at him, offering a little shrug as well. “We all have our little talents,” she murmured. “Did you get some good ideas, or… good things to draw?”

“Yeah, I did. I think I’m gonna fill a sketchbook with today alone. And maybe a canvas or two.” 

As she landed on the couch again, Natasha leaned back to catch her breath and gave him a warm smile. “You know, I didn’t realize how out of shape I was until just now,” she laughed. “That felt great, though. Thank you for giving me a reason to dance.” 

Steve chuckled as he took his seat again and sorted through the various things he’d gotten down to start with. “If that’s out of shape then I’ve got a lot of work to do getting  _ into  _ shape,” he quipped.

“Oh, please,” she countered. “I bet you could bounce a quarter off your bicep.”

“I think you’re crazy.”

Natasha laughed to herself again. “I actually regret not eating this morning,” she mumbled. “I was so nervous.” She sat up all of a sudden. “I think I’ve got a granola bar around here somewhere…” She began digging through her bag and Steve shook his head quickly.

“Uh, how about we have real food for breakfast?” He suggested. “I can make pancakes.”

She didn’t have to know that he hadn’t eaten that morning either; it was getting harder to force himself to eat when he didn’t actually have an appetite, but right now… everything felt kind of nice and he wanted to try. “Really, I’d like to.”

Natasha smiled. “Alright,” she agreed. “Let me get out of these shoes and I’ll see you in there.”

 

Steve set his stuff down and headed into the kitchen to make the promised pancakes. He would have made them from scratch, but he hadn’t… actually bought a lot of things for the kitchen and so, Bisquick. In any case, he had a bowl of batter and a pan heating up on the stove before Natasha padded into the kitchen to sit at the table. She was barefoot and she’d pulled her hoodie back on over her top, but she’d also removed the black skirt she’d been wearing, leaving her in only the black tights underneath.

“You should see the real thing,” Natasha suggested at some point. “The ballet. I don’t do the real shows justice, especially not right here in your living room.” 

“I’ve never been,” he admitted. It wasn’t a surprise to Natasha, and Steve knew that. God, he wasn’t the type to just buy tickets to the ballet for no reason and he’d been a little busy since he woke up from the coma. “It sounds… interesting. Bet it’s beautiful.” Steve smiled to himself. “But I think I prefer the private show here.”

“Cheeky,” she quipped. “But I’ve got to say it’s a hell of a lot cheaper.”

At some point while he was flipping pancakes, Natasha wandered away and put on another one of Steve’s records; some compilation of slow, dated music that made Steve think about his mother. She might not have been that old when she passed, but she’d adored music from the 40’s and 50’s. Steve knew most of the songs well, especially since most of his records had been hers and repeatedly played when he was a child. It was all good music to have on in the background, although he supposed he was a little surprised that Natasha would be into this kind of music as well.

Eventually, Steve slid two plates piled high with pancakes onto the table, along with a plate of sausages to share, plus two mugs of coffee. Natasha happily buttered each pancake and drizzled syrup over the whole pile before cutting into them and taking a big bite.

“Oh, this is good,” she groaned around her first mouthful of food. “I don’t make pancakes enough. Usually it’s just yogurt and granola in the mornings for me.”

“Yeah? I’ve never been a real big fan of yogurt.”

Natasha practically balked at him. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right one yet. I’m usually in a rush in the mornings, so it’s always yogurt and maybe a cup of coffee to go. Usually after that the day’s started and I don’t want to sit down for a meal.”

Right, because she obviously had places to go and people to see. Steve wondered for not the first time what exactly it was that she did for a living. She never mentioned school or anything… When he thought about the first time they’d met and how she looked like she was coming home from somewhere, he wondered if that had something to do with why she was able to come to his place in the middle of the day with no problem.

It would seem that once they got going, their appetites were pretty much well matched. Steve cleaned his plate and Natasha was only a little ways behind him. Between them, they even managed to finish the sausages and all the coffee as well. As they sat back to digest, the music turned from some song Steve barely recognized to one of his mother’s favorites.

He smiled lazily. “My ma loved this song,” he told her. “She used to sing it all the time while she was cleaning or cooking…” He trailed off and hummed along to a few of the lines as he closed his eyes.

“Hey.” Natasha spoke up and Steve’s eyes popped open again. He found her standing up, one hand extended. “Do you want to dance? I bet I could teach you right now.”

Steve didn’t even hesitate. He took her hand and let her pull him up and into the living room, where he cautiously took his position with his hand on her waist. “That’s it,” she told him. “Don’t even think about the music. Just look at me.”

_ I’ll be so alone without you.  
_ _ Maybe you’ll be lonesome too, and blue… _

Steve locked eyes with her and tried not to keep looking down at his feet as they started to move. It was slow and probably even more uncoordinated than it felt to Steve, but Natasha patiently helped him move until they were just swaying together. With her chest pressed up against his, Steve was reminded of how small she actually was and with her eyes peering up at him, he was reminded of the first time he’d seen her. Beautiful. Like a goddamn angel on Earth.

_ Fly the ocean in a silver plane;  _ __   
_ See the jungle when it’s wet with rain. _ __   
_ Just remember ‘til you’re home again _ _   
_ __ You belong to me…

But how could he not think about the music when it was this song? How could he not think about how it would have been nice to have someone to live out his days beside? How could he not think about how much he cared for Natasha already, just because she was there for him? She was the one good thing in his life, the one person he trusted right now besides Sam. And yet, the question arose in his mind as to whether or not he could even try to be in a relationship. He was damaged goods. She could do better.

“You’re not doing so badly,” she told him eventually. “I think you’re better than you think.”

Steve smiled a little. “Maybe I’ve just got a good teacher.”

For a second there, it felt like now would be the perfect moment to find out if Natasha’s lips were as soft as they looked. Steve could vividly imagine it; he would press his lips to hers and she would lean up into him to return the kiss. They’d stop where they were, the world might feel like it had stopped entirely, but the music around them would play on.

But the song slowly came to an end and Steve hadn’t done anything but gaze into Natasha’s eyes and remind himself that he was in a professional relationship with her, not a romantic one. In all likelihood, a kiss would have gotten him a slap, not a kiss in return. It didn’t really matter that he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen; that didn’t give him license to actually act on it.

“See? Dancing isn’t so scary,” she told him. “You didn’t even step on my feet.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” he countered. “You’ve got really small feet.”

When she left at ten to three on the dot as usual, Steve immediately went back to his drawings with every intention of finishing them one at a time so he’d have something to show her when she came back the next time. His pride and joy for the day was a canvas that featured Natasha bowing in front of an audience, her head tilted down and her eyelashes brushing over the tops of her cheeks. It was demure and innocent, but there was a certain appeal to the way she held herself and the way she was able to seduce the audience without trying very hard at all- at least that was what he was trying to get across.

 

The very next day, Steve brought along his sketchbook to show Sam that he’d been using his time to his advantage. Sam patiently looked through each page and nodded to himself as he traced the lines and admired the shading, but he ultimately came to one conclusion.

“Steve, have you thought about how close you’re getting to Natasha?” He wondered as he set the sketchbook down on the table between them. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if you might be in love.”

“I’m not in love,” he said quickly. “I’m not.”

Sam gave him a look. “Would being in love be such a terrible thing?”

Steve rolled his eyes and averted his gaze. “No, but come on. I don’t think I’m in any shape to be with someone. I’ll wind up disappointing them or hurting them…” He shook his head. “Natasha deserves a lot better than me. Besides, she’s pretty young.”

“She’s at least, what? Mid-twenties? It’s only a couple of years.”

“It’s like ten years,” Steve corrected. “And ten years is a long time.”

“I think you should give it a chance.” Sam sat back and crossed his legs. “In fact, I think it would be really good for you to put yourself out like that. Even if she rejects you, it means you tried.”

“Easier said than done,” he muttered. “If she says no, she might be too uncomfortable to keep coming back… She’s not gonna be okay with taking her clothes off in front of someone who wants her in that way, when she doesn’t want me back.”

Sam thought about it for a second. “Well, isn’t it already obvious that you’re looking at her in a sexual way?” He wondered. “And furthermore, wouldn’t it be considered manipulative to pretend otherwise?”

Steve frowned. Was Sam right? Would it be wrong to take their modeling a little further if he actually wanted to touch her? It was a strange thing, because it felt like Natasha was slowly becoming less goddess and more benevolent demigoddess. She was beautiful and perfect and she still inspired all sorts of things in his imagination, but he had yet to actually think about… the physical act.

What would it be like? It had been a very, very long time since he’d last had the pleasure. Maybe he’d jerk off in the shower now and then, but it pretty much always ended with Steve feeling sad and alone.

“I’ll think about it,” he said eventually. “Okay? But I’m not promising anything.”

 

Steve arranged another meeting with Natasha for the next week and spent some time on his phone looking up sites about PTSD and dating. They were surprisingly uplifting, although he didn’t entirely trust the happy couples in the pictures on screen. It all seemed too good to be true; how could he know that he could do this if he could barely function otherwise? She would notice that he wasn’t eating, and she would notice that he’d replaced hobbies with running…

She would notice even more than she already had that he was fucked up.

There was always the possibility that she might want him anyway, but really… What were the chances of that? Slim. No one wanted their life invaded by someone who was considered a burden no matter how nice they happened to be. And beyond that, could he seriously enter into a relationship knowing that her life would be affected in a negative way? The guilt would eat him alive.

Three horrendous nightmares and an emergency trip to the gym at two in the morning only convinced him that he wasn’t boyfriend material. God only knows what it would be like for a partner to try and sleep in the same bed as he did, only to be woken up by screaming and crying and even flailing sometimes. What if he hit her accidentally? And beyond that, could he really trust that she’d be able to look him in the eye after seeing him like that?

It was sometime in the middle of the week that Steve took the train into Brooklyn and eventually wandered onto the beach in Coney Island. There weren’t many people there thanks to the cool weather, but Steve liked it better that way even if it made him feel very isolated from everyone else. He sat down somewhere on the edge of the boardwalk and leaned forward against the bars to just--- think. The sea breeze was something of a comfort to him, but his attention was eventually drawn to two figures wandering along the sand together.

They were young, probably teenagers, and they were holding hands. Steve could see in the way they leaned into each other that they were very much in love; there was something very special about that first love, wasn’t there? But they were old enough to be thinking about a life together, old enough for the girl to be dreaming of the day her boyfriend might pop the question and ask her to marry him.  _ He _ was old enough to be seriously considering their future.

As he watched them plop down on the sand and share a kiss, he realized that he did want that. There was no shame in wanting love to be a part of his life, no shame in wanting to spend his time with someone he loved, someone who made him see the world as a better place. There was nothing wrong with wanting to sleep beside someone for the rest of his life and hope that they might be able to calm some of the demons inside him. Maybe he would tell her.

What was the worst that could happen?

 


	5. Melpomene; Muse of Singing and Tragedy

For all his talk, Steve hadn’t given one serious moment of thought to how he might approach asking Natasha out on a date. She was due to arrive any second and he _still_ hadn’t thought about it. Maybe that was a sign that he shouldn’t say a word about it. After all, his decision to take the leap had been made at a particularly vulnerable moment; he was thinking much more clearly now and the truth was that he should just… play it by ear. Above all else, he didn’t want to make Natasha uncomfortable.

When she showed up, Steve was all kinds of ready to invite her in and get down to business as usual instead of saying anything stupid, but he found her happily brandishing two brown paper bags at him and stopped right there. “Uh…”

“I brought breakfast!” She announced. “There’s this bakery on the way here that always smells so good, and I figured we could have some muffins before we start. I brought coffee too.”

Steve had little choice but to agree and follow her into the kitchen while she unpacked their bags. The muffins were massive and there were big chunks of chocolate in each; he had to admit that they looked really delicious and since he’d only had a cup of coffee and an apple that morning, he knew he was going to enjoy the one she brought for him.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” he offered as they sat down.

“I know.” Natasha cut her muffin right in half and took a long sip of her coffee. “But I’ve been dying to try that place anyway, and I figured I could do something nice.”

“Well, thank you,” he said warmly. “I appreciate it.”

They ate in comfortable pseudo-silence. Both Natasha and Steve appreciated a little bit of quiet company in the morning and aside from a few bits of conversation here and there, they were both content. When they were done, Steve thanked her again and insisted he clean up while she got comfortable in the other room. Today, she would be letting him focus on her legs; crossed at the knee, bent up close to her chest, pointing straight up at the sky. She’d worn a skirt for the occasion and by the time he joined her, she was sans-tights and ready to go.

Steve drew her for a long time, focusing on the curves of her thighs and the very, very slight imperfections as well. He wanted to make sure he got her down as realistically as possible; Natasha was beautiful not because she was physically perfect, but because she was imperfect and beautiful anyway. In his mind, it was even more interesting to get down the slight crookedness of her smile or the faint stretch marks on her thighs and sides. It was all natural and he wanted to make sure that if he was drawing her in a medium that afforded details, he was going to make use of those details to highlight her natural beauty.

When he was done, he excused himself to wash the charcoal and pencil off his hands and wandered into the bathroom while she presumably pulled her tights back on. It was a little after lunchtime by then and Natasha would have to be out of there in just a little under ninety minutes or so; he wondered if she’d stay like she did sometimes, even though he was all finished.

With his hands all cleaned up, Steve wandered back down the hall and stopped short as soon as he’d rounded the corner. Natasha was standing near his desk and glancing through the drawings he had piled up there; most were drawings of her, but he also had sketches of Bucky and Peggy there, and his mother. It wasn’t what she was doing that made him stop, though. No, it was the fact that she was singing to herself, just murmuring the words under her breath.

She had a beautiful voice too, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Natasha was one of those people who could croak out a song and he would still think it was perfect in its own little way. That wasn’t the case, however, because Natasha’s voice sounded husky and exquisite, the dulcet tone shaping every word she sang… and what a perfect song she’d chosen.

She probably hadn’t done it on purpose, but Steve stood there and saw this person who had given him hope singing a song that phrased his perception of her so perfectly and he wanted her to know it. He wanted her to know that she was his hope.

“You with the sad eyes,” she sang. “Don’t be discouraged, oh, I realize it’s hard to take courage. In a world full of a people, you can lose sight of it all and the darkness inside you can make you feel so small…” Natasha seemed totally unaware that he was watching her. She flipped through another few pages and continued humming the chorus of the song instead of saying the words themselves, but it didn’t lose any meaning at all, not to Steve.

When she finally noticed him, she smiled and turned around to face him. “Every time I see another drawing of yours, I’m just blown away. It’s practically a travesty that you’re not some big, famous artist…” She paused and frowned a little. “What’s wrong?”

 

Nothing. Steve couldn’t _remember_ what was wrong in his life because all he could think about was her. And she might hate him after this, she might slap him and walk right out, but he had to give it a chance. He thought about when they’d danced and how close they’d been, how it had felt like the perfect time to kiss her… He thought about how maybe he wasn’t just making that up to make himself feel better. Maybe he wasn’t imagining the chemistry between them.

His legs moved on their own and carried him across the room to her. Steve stood motionless in front of Natasha, who looked up at him with her eyebrows raised. For a few seconds there, Steve could focus on nothing but his own breathing; he was entirely too aware of Natasha’s bracelet clinking as she lifted her hand, the floorboard under his feet creaking a little bit as he leaned forward, one of the papers on his desk sliding against another as it settled.

When he kissed her, it felt like everything else stopped. Steve had wrapped his arm around Natasha’s waist to hold her and pressed their lips together knowing that even if this didn’t work out for him, he’d done something he felt he just had to do. She had to know how he felt and since words almost always failed him, this was the next best thing.

Natasha didn’t push him away. In fact, she slid her hands up his chest and tugged at his shirt to bring him a little closer to her, expertly deepening their kiss until Steve had to pull away to breathe. His face was flushed as he closed his eyes and leaned their foreheads together for a moment while she let her hands wander back down his chest again.

She hadn’t pushed him away. Steve felt like singing.

What he hadn’t quite expected was for Natasha to take his hands and meet his gaze for a moment before smiling, and beginning to pull him towards the bedroom. Steve followed in a daze, only snapping out of it when she closed the bedroom door and pushed him down into a sitting position on the bed. He couldn’t utter a single word as she stepped back and pulled her shirt off, letting it fall to the floor before seeing to the short, black skirt she was wearing.

Steve felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, she was so radiant.

Unable to find the right words, Steve remained silent even as Natasha came towards him and gracefully straddled his lap. His hands settled on her thighs and Steve found himself enraptured by how soft and smooth her skin was, not to mention how it felt to have her on him. She was weighing him down and light as a feather at the same time; even as she began tugging his shirt off, Steve felt like he was walking on air. Like this, it didn’t seem to matter that he was fucked up.

When she met his lips again, Steve took the opportunity and wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her close. The amount of contact he was enjoying right now was beyond words; maybe Sam had been right about that whole tactile comfort thing. As it was, their breath mingled as Natasha reached behind to unhook her bra and toss it aside and Steve’s heart felt like it was thumping right up against his rib cage, but that had nothing on how his breath caught when she pushed him onto his back.

It took some maneuvering, but eventually Natasha was bare and Steve was bare and he honestly couldn’t imagine a more exquisite sight. She was laying on her back by that point while he sort of hovered over her, one hand brushing over her waist and down to her thigh. Steve felt like his rough hands might snag her skin and kept every touch gentle, every movement filled with the kind of reverence usually afforded to priceless works of art. But didn’t she deserve treatment like that? Didn’t Natasha qualify as something priceless?

“Steve.”

His gaze snapped up to meet hers and Natasha smiled the little, crooked smile he loved so much. It was hopeless, wasn’t it, to keep denying the way he felt. Steve hadn’t thought it would be so easy to feel this way again and yet…

“Get out of your head, Steve,” she whispered to him, sitting up to bring him into another kiss.

Steve wanted to apologize for it. He wished he could communicate what he was thinking about, but it wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t sure there would ever be a right time to express how enraptured he was by everything he knew about her; from her good nature to the tilt of her lips, with all the little imperfections he noted as an artist rather than as a man, Steve loved her.

Natasha’s lips parted in an indescribable moan when he entered her and Steve kept his eyes on her to see every little detail. He wanted to commit this to memory; every time her expression changed, the way she bit down on her lower lip as he started to move, the little line that formed between her brows, the way her eyes eventually opened and focused on his. It was intense in the very best way. Steve couldn’t look away and when Natasha brought one hand up to the back of his neck, he realized that she didn’t want him to. For the first time since he’d met her, Steve wondered if maybe Natasha found some pleasure in being his muse just like he got some pleasure from drawing her.

At some point, she pushed him back again and Steve rolled over so she could take the top position. He gave in without a fight if this was what she wanted; dominance didn’t mean much to him and considering the way Natasha was rocking her hips down, she wasn’t leaving him out of the equation anyway. Steve kept his eyes open, but he also eventually planted his feet on the bed and pressed his hips up to meet each and every one of her movements as they became more frantic. With his hands on her hips and her hands on his chest, they moved together towards a singular goal and found their completion within seconds of one another.

Steve didn’t have it in him to wonder whether or not thinking she was beautiful when she came was creepy; it was just the way he felt and he wasn’t going to voice that out loud either way.

And then all of a sudden, Natasha was sprawled out half on top of him and Steve was smiling up at the ceiling. As much as he wanted to deny it, he felt _fantastic_ and he didn’t know if that was because he needed the release or because it was Natasha or because he was just so desperate to have someone else in his life… but whatever the reason might be, the feeling itself was undeniable.

Natasha eventually looked up at him and rested her chin on his chest. “Well, I can’t say I saw _that_ coming when I got here this morning,” she quipped. “Artistic inspiration to kiss me?”

Steve chuckled a little and shrugged like he wouldn’t carve his heart out of his chest and hand it over if she asked him to. “I guess you could call it that,” he answered. “I mean, by that logic, I probably should have kissed you the second we met.”

She laughed and it was like music to Steve’s ears. “I don’t think the reaction would have been _quite_ as welcoming,” she teased back. “But I’m glad you went for it this time.”

They laid together for a little while longer, but at some point Natasha rolled over on top of him again and Steve found himself on the receiving end of another kiss. His hands immediately found the curve of her lower back as he reciprocated that kiss, but just one second later she was pulling away.

“I’ve got to go,” she announced as she slid off of him and right out of the bed. “Sorry, I’m late. It’s almost three already.”

As she grabbed her bra and hastily began to get dressed, Steve sat up and glanced at the clock. Five to three. And she couldn’t… stay a few minutes? Where was she always running off to? Or was it that she didn’t want to extend the post coital cuddling as soon as possible? Maybe she regretted what they’d done? Steve tried to push back his anxiety and it nearly worked, even as she pulled on her clothes and told him to text her whenever he wanted her back before basically running out of the room. He heard the door to his apartment close with a bang and idly rubbed his jaw in thought.

Nah. He was being crazy.

 

When he finally got up the nerve to text her after that, he asked if she was free the next day and she answered by telling him that she’d be at his place at the usual time. Well, he had been planning on asking her to go out somewhere, but he lost his nerve and accepted her decision instead. The strangest thing about this most recent change was that the rest of his life didn’t just snap into place. Maybe it was his sessions with Sam that were making him hopeful for something like that, but Steve honestly woke up the next morning thinking that everything might just be okay.

And then the next three nights were the same as always. Nightmares, lack of sleep, loss of appetite… By the time he got to his next appointment with Sam, he was nearly overrun with guilt as well. They talked about it, but ruled it out as exactly what it was: survivor’s guilt. Why should he get this chance to have a happy life when Bucky hadn’t ever gotten the same chance?

“Bucky would have wanted you to be happy,” Sam reminded him. “Just based on what you’ve told me about him, I _know_ he would have wanted the best for you.”

Steve sighed. “I know, but it’s-- I mean, I should have been more careful. I should have made sure he came home too.”

“You know it’s not your fault.”

“You read the file. You know what happened.”

“I know that it wasn’t your fault,” Sam repeated. “Don’t sabotage yourself like this.”

Steve knew that he was right. He wasn’t _stupid_ or anything, but it was easy to forget that Bucky loved him when he’d managed to let Bucky down when he needed him most. “You think I should just… what? Go with the flow?”

Sam nodded quickly. “Yeah, I do. I think you should try to relax and just have fun. Let her lead you if that’s what makes you feel better about it. Steve, all I know is that you walked in here looking like you had the world on your shoulders, but the minute you started talking about her? It was like you were some other place. I want you to be that happy all the time.”

“That’s an impossible goal,” Steve pointed out.

“I know,” Sam answered, giving him a warm smile. “I’m gonna sound like a greeting card, but you always shoot for the moon, man. That way, even if you miss, you’ll end up among the stars.”

 

On the day of Natasha’s next visit, Steve awaited her arrival with his game face on. If she wanted to pretend that nothing had ever happened, then that was what he would do. If she wanted to talk about it, then he would force himself to do that instead. Given his limited dealings with women, or anyone, in this capacity, he wasn’t exactly sure what he should be expecting.

When she finally got there, he let her in and smiled as he shut the door behind her. “You look nice today,” he offered. Natasha was only wearing jeans and a black shirt, but he loved her in dark colors; they made her hair stand out even more than usual. “Not that you don’t look nice every day,” he added quickly. “But you know.”

“I know,” she laughed. “So, where do you want me this time?”

Back to business. Steve glanced towards the living room and his mind went _entirely_ blank. He’d been so intent on acting like everything was fine that the acting like a normal person program kind of stalled. “Uh…”

Natasha chuckled. “I guess there’s no reason not to draw me naked now, is there?” She teased.

Steve’s gaze snapped back to her as she sat on the arm of the sofa. “Ha, I guess not,” he answered as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “You’re sure it would be okay?”

Natasha smirked as she stood up again and moved over to him, idly draping her arms over his broad shoulders. “I can think of a few really good ways to get me out of my clothes to begin with,” she murmured.

Oh. Steve cleared his throat and belatedly placed his hands on her hips again. “Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Natasha bit her lower lip and leaned up into him a little bit. “I bet you could even carry me in there if you wanted to.”

Steve blinked. “I probably could,” he answered slowly. “I mean, you’re pretty-- small--”

Pause. Oh, she wanted him to. Right. Steve swallowed and leaned down, scooping Natasha into his arms and carrying her right down the hall to his bedroom. He wondered if he would ever be able to look at her and not be overwhelmed by how lucky he was to just be in her presence, let alone have the privilege to touch her.

“You’re thinking again,” she sang to him as he laid her down on the bed and stared. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

Steve flushed a little bit and shrugged. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are,” he admitted. It wasn’t a total lie; it just left out a couple of details. “I think about that a lot.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. “You can stop flattering me, you know,” she told him. “I’m not the type that needs constant reassurance.”

“But I _am_ thinking about it a lot,” he insisted as he took a seat on the edge of the bed and rested his hand on her thigh. “It’s everything about you, not just the way you look. It’s the way you move and the sound of your voice and the perfume you wear…”

He moved down to press his nose into her neck and inhale, pulling a soft laugh from her as well. “I’m not _wearing_ perfume,” she told him, lightly shoving him off. “And that tickles.”

Steve pulled his head up and gave her a look. “You mean that’s just you?”

Natasha shrugged. “Apparently.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Steve leaned down and brushed their lips together for a moment, seeking permission that was granted in short order before kissing her properly. This time, he was the one who got her out of her clothes, and he shimmied down until he was kneeling on the floor beside his bed with her legs draped over his shoulders.

Taking his time, he pressed a line of gentle kisses on the soft skin of her inner thighs, working his way up from her knees to the apex of her thighs. Now, maybe it was just his own perversion, but Steve found something close to profound beauty in this as well. Natasha was soft and pink, and she tasted as sweet as her moan sounded when he finally pressed his tongue into her.

If Steve could have put on paper the way Natasha _sounded_ as he went down on her, he would have. She didn’t hold back at all and why should she? There was nothing to be ashamed of. The way she moaned for him, the way her breath came in soft, needy pants, the way her back arched and her thighs trembled as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge… It was all just about as erotic as Steve could imagine; in fact, it was so appealing that he found himself wondering why he hadn’t done this the first time around.

When she came, she tightened her thighs around his head and Steve came up for air with a wide, boyish grin that made her laugh. “Come here,” she told him as she shook her head in amusement. “You’re _way_ too proud of yourself.”

“Me?” Steve chuckled as he landed on his back beside her, his jeans still just loose around his waist where he’d left them. Tented as they were, he’d like to get them off as soon as possible. “I’m not proud of anything. I’m just-- happy.”

Natasha smiled and rolled onto her side, letting her hand slide down Steve’s chest until she could take him in hand and give him a few slow strokes just to get him started. “You really are happy,” she quipped, pecking him on the lips.

Two more rounds later, Natasha arranged herself right on top of Steve and folded her arms over his chest so she could rest her chin on top of them and look down at him. “Do you still want to draw me like this?”

Steve couldn’t think of anything he wanted more right now. He agreed and pulled on a pair of sweats so he could retrieve his paint and his easel and set up right there in the bedroom. When he returned, Natasha was sitting up and considering the best way to arrange herself for this momentous occasion. Steve could see that she was a little nervous, but he smiled and honestly felt like that would only add to the appeal of this painting. It would only be their first attempt; she could grow from then on, and change it up when she felt confident enough to do so.

Eventually, Natasha laid on her back and Steve noticed that she was trying to subtly figure out a way to cover herself up in one way or another. “Try crossing your arms over your chest,” he suggested. “Gently, though. Like you’re… trying to preserve some modesty.”

She did as he said and looked down at him from there, amidst the wrinkled sheets with her leg bent up a little bit. Steve immediately began to paint, creating the picture of this demure woman who still managed to command the attention of whoever was looking at the painting. It wasn’t obscene or anything; Steve kept the shading dark between her legs and made sure to flesh out the shape of her torso and the slight curves at the tops of her thighs.

In the end, the painting turned out to be a soft, beautiful piece that perhaps downplayed Natasha’s natural ferocity in favor of showing off another side to her. After all, even the most confident people could be modest sometimes and Natasha was no exception. Steve showed her the painting and watched as Natasha tried to see herself as the person on the canvas in front of her.

 

 

 

“I think you’re biased,” she teased lightly. “That’s not how I look.”

Steve frowned a little and glanced from the painting to the woman sitting beside him. “That’s exactly how you look,” he said confidently.

Natasha raised her eyebrows to give him a disbelieving look. “I have marks,” she reasoned. “Stretch marks…” She pointed to the side of her stomach to indicate one such mark. “I have scars too. Here…” She showed him a jagged line right near her belly button. “That woman doesn’t have marks.”

Steve nodded because yes, she was right. The woman in the painting didn’t have marks. “I guess when I look at you, I’m not focusing on the marks,” he said slowly. “Would you want me to?”

“Well. I mean, I don’t want you to only focus on the marks,” she answered. “I know they’re not exactly aesthetically pleasing, but… this feels false to me. Although I’ll admit that it’s not as horrifying as I thought it would be to see myself like that.”

“But… It’s not false,” he tried. “It’s not. Even if this isn’t how you see yourself, it’s how I see you.” Steve figured he’d need to explain a little more clearly. “I know no one’s perfect. I know you have… little marks or whatever, but the painting is your essence down on paper; it’s not like a photograph, it’s an impression.”

Natasha lifted her eyes up to meet his and stared for a moment. “You really do see the best in people, don’t you?”

Steve smiled and ducked his head a little bit. “I try to,” he shrugged. “It’s not that hard with you. Besides, scars and stuff like that? Just means you've been living. I think they're just as perfect as the rest of you.”

She rolled her eyes at him and gave him another little kiss for his trouble.

 

It became something of a pattern. Steve would text Natasha to ask if she could come over on any particular day, she would usually answer with a yes, and when she came over they spent maybe seventy percent of the time with no clothes on. Steve drew Natasha every way he could think of; wrapped up in his sheets, laid out on the couch with a blanket over her and her breasts just peeking out, on her belly in bed reading a book… She was more and more beautiful every time he saw her, but it was more than that now.

Now, Steve found himself inspired to draw other things. He’d spend entire days at the park drawing the trees as they lost their leaves, kids playing on the jungle gym, people holding hands as they walked past the fountain. He felt like he could see beauty all around him again, which was the way it ought to be. Despite the dark moments that crept up on him sometimes, Steve found that his life as a whole was somewhat… lighter. And aside from the sessions with Sam, he owed all that to Natasha. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met before; quiet confidence and maybe a little bit of mystery all rolled into this package that he couldn’t look away from. No matter what she wore, no matter what she did to her hair, no matter what… he was captivated.

His favorite drawing of her was in pencil, and it featured her sitting on the couch wearing his tshirt, legs bare, a book opened on her lap. He hadn’t made a production out of it; Steve had just sketched her on a small piece of paper and he’d eventually tucked that right into his wallet because when he was feeling weak or when he was out there and inundated with things that made him question his own existence in the world, he could take that picture out and everything made sense for a little while.

The only thing he couldn’t quite understand was how secretive Natasha was about the rest of her life. Steve’s anxiety naturally spiked when she continued to basically dash out of his place at ten to three on the dot and never explained why. What did she do for a living? She never mentioned another job or… or anything, really. The only things they talked about were general; he knew that she was born in Russia and that her parents had died when she was young, and he knew that she hated peas and absolutely couldn’t handle one more taste of borscht, but that she loved pizza and sometimes binged on a whole bag of thin pretzels dipped in ice cream. He knew enough about her to know that he was in love.

The best thing about Natasha was that she didn't seem to expect very much from Steve. She was always rushing out and she never said anything about the fact that they'd never been out on an actual date, so he went with it. He let her lead, just like Sam suggested. She didn't suggest going on a walk a couple of times, but Steve happily agreed to something so simple and accompanied her to the park, where he drew her enjoying a soft pretzel while they sat under a tree. If this was what Natasha wanted, maybe he could actually be the person she wanted him to be. Maybe he could do this no matter how fucked up in the head he was and _not_ be a total disappointment.

But what was she hiding? God knows that Steve didn’t want her poking into his secrets, so he figured he’d be better off not pushing it. He could enjoy what they had in all its simplicity and not worry that she was actually married or something on the side, or that she was involved in some kind of illegal stuff, or that she was somehow reporting back to Sam about the state of his health.

At least, he hoped so.

 


	6. Thalia; Muse of Comedy and Idyllic Poetry

Life had a funny way of never letting too many good things happen at once. Steve was head over heels in love with Natasha and patiently waiting for the right moment to tell her so. He loved that what they had was simple and entirely uncomplicated by unspoken expectations and he loved that when he was with her, he almost felt...normal. It was strange, but very much appreciated. Something about her presence calmed his mind. 

Steve was even able to sleep a little more, though the bouts of depression and the guilt were as potent as ever. He still saw Sam, obviously, and carefully heeded his advice where Natasha was involved. Communication was important and Steve absolutely didn't want to actually tell Natasha what he was going through, so that brought up some issues. Nevertheless, they worked together.

Strange as it might sound, Steve was one hundred percent content with the way things were. Natasha never spent the night and they almost never did things he associated with being a couple like eating out or going to the movies together or any of that, but it didn’t make their entanglement any less genuine. Natasha understood him; she understood him more than he ever would have expected and for that, Steve was overwhelmingly thankful.

With that said, Steve did wonder sometimes about all the things he probably didn’t know. Natasha had spoken very little about her childhood and even less about whatever it was that she did when she wasn’t with him… He supposed it was a little suspicious, right? If they were in a normal relationship, it would be suspicious. But Steve found that he trusted her completely; he didn’t think she was out with another guy or running some kind of illegal drug ring every afternoon. Natasha probably didn’t feel the need to share her whole life with him and Steve, who just wanted the company and loved the feeling of having another person nearby, didn’t mind.

But Steve hadn’t quite expected to go out for a long walk one Saturday afternoon and find Natasha in the park… with a little girl. At first, he had thought she might be babysitting for someone as a second job, but as he watched them he realized that they looked  _ very _ close. Natasha tickled the girl and they giggled together as they ran around, the little girl wearing a glittering pink skirt that bounced in the breeze and Natasha chasing after her as they laughed… It was a very wholesome sort of thing, but Steve stood frozen to the spot.

Did Natasha have a daughter?

Was she married?

Oh, God. Had he been sleeping with a married woman?

Unfortunately for him, Natasha caught sight of him standing numbly under a tree and he watched as she said something to the little girl before jogging right on over to him. She was wearing a purple shirt and she looked beautiful, just like she always did, but there was something else… He couldn’t quite place it, but he thought she looked almost carefree? Content. Happy. Why wouldn’t she, if she was out with her daughter?

“Steve,” she breathed as she reached him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Steve blinked and looked down at her. “Uh, I was taking a walk. I’m supposed to get out every day, if I can.” And he hadn’t been doing that, so he tried to make up for it that morning by walking quite some distance after he’d woken up in a sweat and a panic. He reflexively glanced behind Natasha as the little girl came running up to them and stared at her like he still couldn’t believe she was real.

“Mama, Mama!” The girl glanced up at Steve and her whole face went pink as she shied away a little bit and clung to her mother’s leg. “Я хочу поиграть с тобой,” she murmured into Natasha’s thigh.

Steve very nearly paled. So Natasha did have a daughter. How could it possibly be that she hadn’t mentioned that in all the time they’d spent together? Why wasn’t she mentioning her? Was it all because Steve was so unstable? She hadn’t even seen that much! What would she think when she realized that he’d very nearly put a hole in his wall the other day? Oh, God. That was why she was always leaving before three o’clock! Because school would be letting out!

Of course, it occurred to him that maybe Natasha kept her a secret because they were just sleeping together and it wasn’t anything serious to her. She had every right to keep this a secret from him and he knew that; it just shocked him because she was so young. And still, what did she do for a living? How did she support herself?

“Мы будем играть через минуту, детка,” Natasha murmured back. “Come and say hello to my friend. Steve, this is my daughter, Anna. Anna, say hello to Steve. This is the friend who drew that nice picture of me that I showed you.”

Anna had strawberry blonde hair and green eyes. She couldn’t have been older than four or five and based on the way she held onto her mother’s leg even then, Steve guessed she wasn’t used to meeting ‘friends’ of Natasha. “Hello,” she whispered. “Did-- Did you really draw that picture?”

Steve might have been shell shocked and blindsided, but he knew when he was a little too intimidating for a small child and quickly crouched down so he was on her level instead of towering above her. “I did,” he said, offering her a warm smile. “Do you draw pictures too?”

Anna nodded quickly and turned a little so he could see her whole face. She looked like Natasha; he could see that in her nose and the way she smiled, although the shyness that accompanied it was definitely not what he was used to with Natasha herself. “I like drawing flowers,” she informed him. “Can you draw flowers?”

“Well, I don’t know if they’d be as beautiful as yours,” he said. “But I can try.”  

“Мама, может он пойти с нами?” Anna tipped her head back to speak to her mother and Natasha smiled a little bit as she brushed a hand over her daughter’s hair.

“Well, I don’t know. Steve, would you like to come with us?” She didn’t seem to be telling him not to, which he had to assume she would if she didn’t want him to be interacting with her daughter. “We were just about to walk over to the farmer’s market and get some apple cider and cookies.”

Steve decided that if he wanted to have Natasha in his life, and he did, he would have to press forward and accept this right away. “Yeah, I’d love to,” he answered. “That sounds great.”

Anna seemed pleased with the decision and she pointed in what she thought was the direction of the farmer’s market, which only made it a little sweeter when Natasha gently turned her around to face the right way. As they walked, Steve found himself glancing down at Anna a handful of times like he was trying to gauge whether or not she was--- the result of a previous marriage or what. Was Natasha divorced? Separated? Widowed? Had she ever been married in the first place?

“Mama takes me to the park every Saturday,” Anna told him as she walked between them, one hand curled gently around her mother’s. “Do you have any kids?”

She sounded hopeful, like she wanted him to have a child she could play with on the weekends. Steve kind of wished he could give her a better answer. “No, I don’t,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about getting a dog, though.” Like that would help.

To his surprise, however, Anna’s eyes lit up and she beamed up at him. “A puppy? What kind of puppy?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” he laughed. “I was thinking of just going to a shelter and picking one out.” It was actually something Sam had suggested; having a pet wouldn’t just mean that he had another  _ presence _ in the house at all times, but it would mean that he had a reason to get out of bed, a reason to go outside no matter how shitty he was feeling, and something to be responsible for. Maybe it was sad, but it gave his life a clear meaning for right now, while he was still trying to figure out his next step.

“Mama! Can we go with Steve to pick out a puppy?” Natasha raised her eyebrows and looked up to Steve. She seemed unsure, but he shrugged and smiled because that was entirely innocent, right? Let the kid pat some puppies and eventually help him pick out a really good one.

“We’ll see,” she said easily. “Let’s just get through apple cider and cookies first, okay?”

Soon enough, they reached the farmer’s market and Anna let go of Natasha’s hand to bolt over to a particular table. The man behind it smiled widely and lifted her up, settling the little girl right on his hip as the woman next to him laughed. It would seem that Natasha would be making several introductions that day, as she awkwardly stood beside a confused Steve and gestured to him.

“Clint, Laura, this is Steve. Steve, this my best friend and his wife.”

Laura immediately waved to greet him from behind the table, but Clint sized him up and eventually put out a hand to give him a firm shake. “You’re the soldier,” he pointed out.

“Uh. Yeah, that’s me,” Steve answered uneasily. Natasha had been talking about him?

“Good to meet you,” Clint replied. “Now, how about we get some apple cider for you guys?”

Anna cheered even as Clint set her down and eventually took the first cup of hot apple cider from him so she could blow on it and eventually take a happy little sip. Clint handed her a thick, homemade chocolate chunk cookie and Anna wandered off to the side to sit down and enjoy. In the meantime, Natasha and Steve were handed identical cups and cookies of their own.

“So, are you two just friends, or…?”

Natasha glared at Clint and shook her head. “Can we not?”

“It’s just a question,” he countered.

“It’s a question for another time, stop being rude.” Laura poked his arm and Steve found that he almost  _ wanted _ Natasha to say that they were together, that they were more than friends. Still, he could take the hint that whatever they had was what he needed to be happy with. As Clint huffed and shook his head, Laura turned back to them. “If you want to take a walk, we can watch Anna for a while,” she offered. “Go on, there’s a few new people here today.”

 

Natasha glanced at Steve, thanked Laura, and ushered him off towards the rest of the market while Anna abandoned her cider to pat a puppy passing by on a leash- all under Laura’s careful gaze, of course.

“So, Clint seems nice,” Steve mused. “You’ve known him for a long time?”

“Feels like ages,” she answered. “He was the first friend I made here.”

Steve didn’t think she’d ever told him when it was that she came to the US from Russia; he was curious, but he didn’t want to push. Wait, but how could he be the first friend if Natasha had a baby? Surely that man was a ‘friend’ as well. Right?

“You’re too quiet,” she told him after a few moments. “What are you thinking about?”

Steve flushed a little and shook his head. “I’m not sure it’s polite to say.”

Natasha took another sip of her cider and bit into her cookie with no pretense or care at all. “If I were you, I’d have some questions. Go on. It’s only fair.”

“I’m sorry, I was just wondering about the situation with Anna,” he tried. “Were you married, or… is her father still in the picture…?”

She glanced up at him and arched one eyebrow. “Do you think I’m having an affair with you?”

Steve’s  _ ears _ felt like they were just going to burn off from the embarrassment. “I don’t know what to think,” he groaned. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised.”

Natasha shook her head at him a little bit. “Her father isn’t in the picture,” she explained. “He passed away when she was a baby.”

Oh. Well, now he felt like an asshole. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” she answered immediately. “I couldn’t be happier that he’s gone.”

Steve frowned a little bit. “Oh. Well, I guess… I’m happy for you?” Why was she happy that he was gone? What happened? Why did it feel like she was hiding a whole lifetime of stories?

Natasha huffed out a breath through her nose and shrugged. “In any case, you don’t have to worry. Anna is all mine. No dangerous exes wandering around, no husband, none of that.”

Well, that was really all he could ask for. Steve knew it wasn’t his place to really dig and find out why it was that Natasha had neglected to mention that she had a child at all. Honestly, it didn’t matter. This entanglement that they had going on wasn’t exactly the kind of relationship wherein they were introducing each other to their families.

“Anna seems very sweet,” he said instead of commenting any further on the girl’s father. “She looks just like you.”

Natasha smiled to herself. “She’s the most important thing in my life,” she said softly. “I mean, back then I never imagined I would be able to do this on my own, but I did. I did it.”

Steve felt very protective of Natasha in that moment, for some reason. He didn’t know if that was because of the implication that her late husband was guilty of making her think she wasn’t capable or because she’d obviously been through a lot, but he just barely resisted putting his arm around her to keep her close. He wasn’t even sure if that was okay.

“I admire you for it,” he said. “I know how hard it is to be a single mother…”

She looked up at him and tilted her head to the side. “My mother raised me on her own,” he explained further. “She worked real hard to take care of me. And I was pretty sick as a kid, so she had double the work and she did it all alone.” He shrugged. “I wish I could have done more for her before she died.”

 

As they were both finished with their cookies, Natasha was perfectly able to slip her hand into Steve’s and lace their fingers together. It didn’t feel overly indicative of what their relationship had become, but he appreciated the gesture. There was nothing wrong, he reminded himself, with taking comfort in the presence and company of another person.

But when they neared Clint’s table again, Natasha dropped his hand and crouched down as Anna ran into her arms. “Mama! Uncle Clint and Auntie Laura let me pat a puppy!”

“Wow! I bet it was a cute puppy.”

“It was! But Steve’s puppy is gonna be even  _ cuter _ .”

It was said with such conviction that Steve had trouble not believing her- and he knew he just had to get a dog now, because Anna would be really disappointed if he chickened out and changed his mind. Eventually, they said goodbye to Clint and Laura and Natasha took Anna’s hand so they could keep walking. Natasha suggested they go to the library and take out a few books and Anna was so excited about it that Steve couldn’t even comprehend a reason to say no, not that he was actually looking for one.

They wandered into the library together and headed for the children’s section, where Anna ran off and began inspecting the books on the shelves. “I have to return a couple of books,” Natasha told him, pulling them right out of the bag she was wearing. “Do you mind keeping an eye on her?”

Steve was momentarily shocked at the fact that he trusted her this much, but he nodded as soon as he could. “I don’t mind, go ahead.” He offered her a smile and eventually wandered over to help Anna carry the books she was picking out; apparently she was a big reader.

With a pile of books carefully cradled in Steve’s hands, Anna shyly led him over to a big window with a wide, raised area just beneath it where you could sit and read. The pile was placed on one end and Steve sat on the other, leaving the middle for Anna. Together, they leaned back against the window and she opened the first book to try her hand at reading it. Now, it wasn’t smooth sailing, but Anna tried very hard to sound out all the words and get them right. Steve jumped in when he had to, pointing out the letters as he made the sounds and showing her that some words had silent letters… It came naturally, really. Like this, he wasn’t even thinking about his own issues; he just wanted to help Anna out while he could.

To his surprise, however, Anna eventually sidled up to him so they could properly look at the book together. She’d grown tired of reading, so Steve carefully let her sit cradled between his arm and his chest, held the book open himself, and read to her while keeping his voice down. It was a library, after all.

“And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all…”

Steve glanced up and caught Natasha’s gaze as she stared at them from just a few feet away, her brow furrowed a little bit. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “Did you want to--”

She held her hand up and shook her head as she neared them, setting her bag down on the ledge and taking a seat on the opposite side of Anna. The little girl didn’t move from where she had already settled, clearly engrossed in the story and eager for Steve to continue. He read on, finishing the story in no time and closing the book.

“Did you like it?”

Anna smiled. “It’s one of my favorites,” she said timidly. “I have it at home too ‘cuz Mama got it for me for Christmas last year.”

Natasha nodded. “It’s almost worn out,” she laughed. “We might have to get you another copy soon.” She eyed the pile of books beside her. “Are these all the books you want, or do you want to look around a little more?”

Anna was up and hurrying back over to the shelves in about five seconds, much to Steve and her mother’s amusement. “She’s really special,” Steve said as he watched her. “Isn’t she?”

Natasha inched her way over to him and nodded again. “I think so,” she agreed. “She likes you.”

Steve didn’t know how to take that. He’d allowed himself this relationship with Natasha because it was simple and because as long as she knew that he wasn’t right in the head and couldn’t give her very much, no one would get hurt. This changed everything and yet he couldn’t see Anna as anything but a beautiful little positive addition to their… relationship, if he could call it that. Being that Natasha was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, it followed that her daughter was absolutely stunning in her own right. Steve immediately wanted to draw her.

 

“And kids are so trusting, you know?” Steve had been venting to Sam for almost an hour by this point. “She’s this tiny little thing. Like… like a porcelain doll or something. I could hurt her. One wrong move, one bad episode, and I could _ really _ hurt her.” 

Sam nodded because that was the truth. There was no point in lying to Steve and his honesty in that right was something Steve really appreciated. All the doctors at the VA were always trying to preserve his dignity, but that meant  _ shit _ in the face of the truth. “But you said the afternoon went really well, right? It’s not like she’s moving in.”

“But what if---” Steve didn’t know how to put this. “What I’m saying is that I’m…” Deep breath. “I’m scared that it’ll develop into a relationship before I’m ready,” he admitted, eyes down on the floor. “And it’s more than just us now. She doesn’t deserve to have me waiting on the sidelines, just  _ kind of _ in her life, but not really.”

“When are you supposed to see Natasha again?”

“Thursday,” he mumbled.

Sam leaned forward a little. “You love her, don’t you?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I do. It’s like… like it’s natural to love her. There wasn’t ever another option, I was fucked from the start. Soon as I saw her, it was all over for me.”

“Doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know.” Sam leaned back again. “Sometimes love is what makes life worth living.”

There was silence for a moment. “She doesn’t know about everything,” he said quietly. “About the nightmares and the episodes… She doesn’t know about all the shit I’m trying really hard to hide. That’s no place for a kid.”

“Are you scared she’s going to put a stop to it, Steve? Or are you scared she’s going to let you in anyway?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, putting his head in his hands. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

 

When Natasha showed up on Thursday morning, she came bearing gifts. “Anna made you something,” she said as she dug through her bag. “She said she wants you to draw her something too, so you’d better keep that in mind today. I’m not sure another picture of me is going to be good enough.”

The drawing she handed over was simple, but there was clearly a lot of work that went into some of the details and all the coloring. It depicted the three of them; Steve was on one end looking incredibly big and tall in comparison to the other two figures, Natasha was on the other end with bright red hair, and a smaller figure he assumed was Anna was nestled between them. All three wore big, bright smiles and Steve felt his chest tighten with affection and worry.

“I love it,” he said warmly, quickly putting it up on his fridge with the help of a magnet. “I’ll draw her something nice before you leave today, I promise.”

“She also keeps asking about that dog,” she mused. “So if you’re seriously getting one, you’d better name the day.”

Right, the dog. Steve did want to do this, but he was nervous about spending any more time with Anna for fear that he’d either do something to scare her or wind up getting too close to them in general. Although he’d talked it over with Sam, Steve still wasn’t sure exactly what he was afraid of; all he knew was that he felt inadequate and that it was such a soul crushing feeling that it felt impossible to overcome.

“I’m still working on it,” he decided. “But I’ll let you know.”

“In other news, I’ve decided something,” she announced as she raided his fridge for a bottle of water. “I’ve decided that I’m ready for something a little more… daring.”

Steve raised his eyebrows.  _ That _ was a subject he could focus on. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve already seen me naked,” she mused. “And the last time wasn’t so bad. I thought maybe you could draw me the way I really am. I don’t want it to be a flattering angle, I don’t want to cover up… I want it to be real. Can we do that?”

“I don’t think you have an angle that isn’t flattering,” Steve answered. “But I get what you mean.”

Natasha smiled. “Great. Then let’s get to it.”

To Steve’s surprise, Natasha didn’t walk into the bedroom to get undressed. No, she just stood right there in his living room and began disrobing, pulling off her shirt and tossing it aside before seeing to her jeans, her bra, and her panties in that order. Soon enough, she was standing naked in front of him and Steve swallowed harshly as his gaze wandered over her figure. It was a different kind of nudity now; she wasn’t trying to be sexy and she wasn’t doing this for his consumption in that way. Natasha was nude because she wanted to be drawn the way she was.

And already, he knew what he wanted to do.

Steve had been experimenting with textures. He wanted to paint her like this and he was going to do what she requested; that is, he was going to make sure it was accurate. She was still beautiful regardless and he was going to show her exactly how beautiful, whether he was altering certain things or not.

“Can you kind of fold your legs under you…” He demonstrated a little bit. “And maybe just lift your arms…”

Natasha did as she was told, moving around here and there until she figured out the right pose for what she wanted Steve to draw and offered him a little smile. Her cheeks were tinged pink and she looked like she was determined to be bold, but it was a good look for her.

Steve worked tirelessly on the painting itself. He decided that he would really focus on her body this time; it wasn’t about her hair, her face, or even the feeling the painting should inspire in the viewer. Instead of allowing her to be drawn in the most positive light, he worked hard to make sure that there were ‘flaws’, or at least what she might perceive as flaws. He made sure to round out the shape of her thighs and shaded certain areas lighter than the others as she was sporting a faint tan line, and he made sure that the lines weren’t smooth.

She had said before that the woman in the picture didn't look like her because there were no scars, no marks. Steve wasn’t going to make that mistake again. He painted her in all her flawed perfection and when he was through, he’d fallen in love with her all over again. Everything from the line of her jaw to the roundness of her breasts to the scar on her lower belly was put on that canvas for all to see and she looked like a goddess in his eyes; she was sexy, undeniably so, but also so very real… In some ways, Steve thought that this was the best she’d looked. Maybe it was just because it felt so bold and unrestrained. Maybe it was because this painting wasn’t hiding  _ anything _ ; he may have drawn her naked before, but this was real.

 

 

Natasha pulled a blanket around her shoulders as she came around to look at the painting itself and she nodded slowly. “Now that’s me,” she whispered. “That’s me.” She reached out to indicate the softness of her thighs and the scars and the way her breasts were just slightly uneven, like most were. “I actually really like this one.” 

Steve smiled. “Yeah?”

Turning to face him, Natasha smiled and eventually leaned in for a kiss. “Yeah.”

When she pulled back, she bit her lower lip and gave him a suggestive look as she moved away. As she walked off, she let the blanket fall and glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Steve had his shirt off and his belt undone before they even hit the bedroom. This time, Natasha had him sit up against the headboard and she straddled his hips, slowly sinking down onto him and letting him hold her hips as she moved. Steve always found himself so mesmerized by the way she rocked her hips, but this time he found himself unable to resist the urge to lean forward and press his lips to the skin between her breasts. He traced down as far as he could before seeking out her lips again and sinking into a kiss that took his breath away.

He even crossed his legs at some point like that would keep them even closer together. Natasha’s arms remained around his neck and Steve pressed his hips up to meet the undulation of hers as he sought out kiss after kiss after kiss. One day, he thought. One day, he wanted to spend hours just kissing her. When she came, he followed with ragged groans against the bare skin of her neck and one arm clutching her as close to him as possible.

When it was all over, Natasha rested her head on Steve’s chest and traced the lines of his muscles as they relaxed. It wasn’t difficult to imagine doing this every day, although there was that added element that made him hesitate. Anna was a sweet girl, but Steve had trouble imagining himself as a father or even a father figure when he still dealt with night terrors himself. It just didn’t feel realistic to him that he would be able to represent any kind of stability.

“You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever made such a good impression on my daughter,” Natasha mused after a while. Her hand stilled and flattened out on his chest and Steve wondered if she was feeling for his heart to clock any panic that might arise. “She usually doesn’t like strangers very much.”

“Well, then I feel special,” he chuckled softly. “She really does seem very sweet.”

He could feel Natasha smile against his chest. “She is,” she whispered. “I wish I could have given her a better life, but… It was never really my decision.”

Steve frowned a little. “What do you mean?”

Silence stretched on between them for a very long time before Natasha spoke up again. This time, her voice was thick and trembling just enough for him to know that something was wrong.

“My parents died when I was ten; I think I’ve told you that before. What you don’t know is that the man who became my guardian married me off at eighteen to one of his business associates.” She took a deep breath. “His name was Alexei. He wasn’t all bad, really. He only hit me a few times. Only…” She shifted a little. “Only passed me to his friends a couple of times. But he was so much older. Almost as soon as we were legally married, he brought me here. I had Anna about a year later, when I was nineteen.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He wished for a moment that he could go back in time and protect her from all of this; a forced marriage, being torn away from her home, a child when she was still so young herself. Of course he realized that if she had stayed in Russia, there was a good chance they might never have met, but that was a small price to pay for Natasha’s happiness. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“He was a criminal,” she confessed. “He was killed in some kind of deal that went bad and all I remember is that he didn’t come home. The cops came to my door and told me, and I didn’t cry. I didn’t—really feel anything but relief.”

Steve could feel that talking about it upset her, either because of what this man had put her through or because of the fallout after he died. He had a feeling that life hadn’t been so easy for her afterwards. Since he couldn’t possibly think of the Right Thing to say, he just tightened his arm around her and turned onto his side so he could wrap the other around her as well. Sometimes a hug was better than words, he reminded himself. Sometimes all he wanted was a little contact.

Natasha burrowed into his chest like a protective cocoon and Steve just held her there. His brow was still furrowed, his mouth drawn into a frown, and he kissed the top of her head to remind her that he was there. It seemed so wrong for the hatred and darkness of the real world to touch something as beautiful as Natasha; Steve would do anything he could to keep her in the light…

…But he had to wonder if his presence in her life was pushing her towards the darkness or not.

“There’s something else I wanted to tell you,” she mumbled into his chest. “My record isn’t exactly clean either. It was really hard to put food on the table after Alexei died; all his assets were hidden and in cash, so I was left with practically nothing. We were thrown out of the house almost immediately and I found a little apartment, but the money I had access to went very quickly for rent and food and everything…”

Steve silently prayed that she hadn’t had to do something awful, not because it would push him away from her, but because she’d already suffered enough. When would it end? When did she find peace?

“I met Clint when I stole food from his stall at the market,” she whispered. “He chased me down and cornered me in an alley. Probably could have called the cops and had me arrested, but he didn’t.” She shrugged a little. “But he did make me tell him why I was stealing, and he let me keep what I’d taken. He even gave me a few more things.”

She went quiet and Steve could feel a distinct drop of water on his bare chest; Natasha was crying and there was nothing he could do about it. “A week later, I went back to him and asked for a job.” She sniffled a little and readjusted her position so she was nice and comfortable. “He gave me a place to stay, rent free, and let me work on his farm so I could save up some money and get situated.”

So that was why they were so close. “I’m glad you found him,” he said softly.

“Before he even knew Laura,” she added. “Clint was like a guardian angel or something.” She paused and picked her head up to look at him. Her eyes were wet and he could see that it was hard for her to talk about all of this, but maybe that was just because she was scared he was going to judge her for it. Sure enough, the question came a moment later. “Does this change anything?”

Did it change anything? Steve wasn’t even sure what they had here. He loved Natasha, but did she love him? Were they really doing this? Because he hadn’t even taken her out yet and he hadn’t known about her daughter until he accidentally saw them together and…

“You’re thinking too much,” she teased again, but it was sadder this time, like she was really worried he might just turn her away because she wasn’t who he thought she was.

Steve leaned down to kiss her forehead. It was done out of affection; whether they were sleeping together or not, he felt a great deal of respect and care for her and he wanted her to understand that without having to trip over his words to say it. “It doesn’t change anything,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

 

Two weeks later, Steve couldn’t get out of bed. 

He’d slept maybe an hour all night long and when dawn came, he just couldn’t. What was the point? His life was basically meaningless; he still didn’t have a paying job, he couldn’t get back into the military… He might as well become a vigilante at this point considering the fact that his skill set wasn’t really applicable elsewhere. Beyond that, everything felt kind of hopeless. Even his relationship with Natasha would end eventually, wouldn’t it? She’d realize that he was damaged and she’d go, and he wouldn’t blame her! The fact was that at some point, she was going to want to stay the night and then she’d see all she needed to see to make that decision.

His phone rang five times while he laid there in bed and it was like Steve couldn’t get his arm to lift in order to answer it. It wasn’t like he’d be any use to anyone who was calling him right now, but with the exception of Natasha, hardly anyone had his number to begin with. What if she needed him?

Steve managed to pull himself out of bed half an hour after that last call and he went right by his phone in favor of taking a shower. He kept the water very cold and stood under the spray for much longer than necessary while he thought about what he could do next and tried to make peace with his current situation. Thoughts like how peaceful it would be to just not exist anymore weren’t healthy and he knew it; he’d have to tell Sam the next time they met.

He’d dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants and was heading into the kitchen to see if he could force himself to eat something when someone knocked. Wait. Who was knocking? Today wasn’t a Natasha day, was it? No. And it was too late for her to come over because she’d have to pick Anna up in a little while.

Confused and almost annoyed by the intrusion, Steve tugged the door open and immediately had himself two arms full of Natasha. Surprised, he softened rather slowly and eventually put his arms around her as well. “Hey, what's wrong? Are you alright?”

Stepping back, Natasha glared up at him and poked hard at the center of his chest. “Why didn’t you pick up the phone?”

Steve blinked. “Uh…” Right, he needed a reason. “Um, I was in the shower?”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “For five hours?”

“Uh…”

There was something behind her gaze that worried him; for all the anger that she was spewing at him right now, she also seemed genuinely concerned about his well-being and he wondered just how much she'd figured out already. She’d seen him in a state, but Steve never talked about how bad it got sometimes and she never asked, so it was just this Thing they ignored.

“Get dressed,” she told him. At Steve’s blank stare, Natasha raised her eyebrows. “I mean it, get dressed. We’re going out.”

Steve didn’t argue. He retreated to the bedroom, pulled on jeans and a white tshirt, grabbed a blue hoodie from his closet, and padded back out to present himself to her. “Where are we going?” He asked as he grabbed his leather jacket. “Or is that a secret?”

“First, we’re going to pick Anna up from school.” Natasha stood by as he locked his door and eventually slipped her hand into his like it was the most normal thing in the world. Steve already felt like he couldn’t breathe because at this juncture, she was ‘dating’ a useless lump of human trash. He couldn’t offer her anything. He couldn’t give her  _ or _ Anna a better life.

Still, he didn’t argue. He followed Natasha down into the train station, got onto a train with her, and let her hold his hand all the way to their stop. By the time they stood outside the school to wait for Anna’s class to be released, he felt marginally better… but there was still a thick layer of doubt over everything. That didn’t waver when Anna came running towards Natasha and jumped into her outstretched arms.

“Mama! I made you a picture!”

As she thrust a piece of paper at Natasha at about the same time as she noticed Steve standing just a couple of feet away. “Steve! You’re here?! Are we going to get the puppy now??”

Before Steve could answer, Anna basically threw herself at him and he caught her at the last second, awkwardly lifting her up once and smiling as he set her back down. “Uh…”

“Yes, we are!” Natasha answered for him. Wait. They were? Steve gave her a mildly panicked look and she shrugged. “Isn’t that right, Steve?”

Steve knew he was dragging his feet on this because it was more difficult to have the life he felt like living at the moment (i.e., no life at all) when there was this other creature who relied on him for everything and he knew that he did want to get a dog for company… but he was still a little blindsided. No time like the present?

“Yeah,” he croaked, clearing his throat a second later. “Yeah. Let’s go pick out a puppy.”

 

The shelter they went to had a front desk manned by a young woman, probably a volunteer. She asked Steve to fill out some paperwork detailing his income, his address and phone number, his history with animals, and why he wanted to adopt a stray. They also asked for three references and Steve-- didn’t have three. He only had two, which he quietly explained to the girl in the simplest way he possibly could. It wasn’t a nice reminder and he could see that she was a little thrown off by the look on his face, so he wasn’t surprised when she retrieved her supervisor to help.

After a quick explanation that was kept far away from both Natasha and Anna, who were off to the side looking at the pictures of happily adopted puppies adorning the wall, the supervisor agreed and took his application with two references instead of the usual three. They waited for a little while and finally, they were let into the actual facility to meet the dogs.

Anna practically sped forward to investigate as Steve and Natasha wandered through behind her. None of those dogs belonged where they were, honestly. Steve wished he could have taken every single one of them out of there; at the moment, he was just glad they were in a no-kill shelter, the kind that would help find good homes for every single animal in there.

Steve crouched down to pet a few of the dogs who came sniffing at the fronts of their cages, but he was finding it a bit hard to… commit. While he was idly wondering if that said anything about him as a person, Anna came running up to him and tugged on his sleeve.

“I found the  _ perfect _ puppy,” she announced. “Come see!”

Anna took his hand and pulled him all the way down a long aisle and around a corner to indicate one cage in particular. Inside was a puppy no more than maybe eight weeks old, just old enough to be adopted. He had mostly brown fur, but there was a little strip of white on his head leading down to his nose, and he had a white belly too. His eyes were brown and as Steve came up, his tail started to wag excitedly. There was some hesitation, but he crept up and sniffed Steve’s hand before allowing himself to be pet behind the ears.

“Look how cute he is,” Anna cooed. “He’s only a baby!”

Yeah, and Steve wondered why anyone would ever abandon something so innocent. He was definitely a mutt, as confirmed by the woman who came over to help them. They thought he was part pitt, maybe part bulldog based on how his back legs looked, but they couldn’t be sure. Apparently he was found in a box in an alley with four others, and he’d been the only survivor.

 

 

“We call him Cooper, but he’s young enough that you could change his name if you wanted,” the woman added as she opened the cage and transferred a wriggling puppy into Steve’s big hands. “Aw, he really likes you…”

Cooper pushed himself up on Steve’s chest to sniff at his mouth and his nose, eventually delivering a few licks to his face. Steve found the gesture so encouraging and so pure that he found he had little choice but to actually do this. “I think he’s the one,” he said quietly, crouching down so Anna could welcome Cooper into her lap and pet him for a little while. Eventually they ran around together while Natasha held a leash for him and Steve signed some papers, happily paying the fee for adopting him as well.

Together, they went to a pet store close to his house and picked out everything he would need; they bought dishes for his food and water, a collar, a new leash to replace the one the shelter had given him, toys, a bed, food, etc. Steve happily carried their purchases while Natasha held Cooper close to her chest for safekeeping. 

 

That evening, Steve’s house was the noisiest and most alive it had been since he’d moved in. Anna played with Cooper almost non-stop. He was a bright, lively little thing and he happily tugged and rolled and ran to his heart’s content, seemingly making himself at home now that he had a place to be. Steve couldn’t put a name on the way he felt, but he knew that he was supposed to be happier than he was. Anna was a sweetheart, Natasha was… Natasha was everything to him right now. So why did he still feel like he was making a mistake? Why did he feel like he was making the wrong decision not so much for himself, but for  _ them _ ?

Once everyone had eaten their respective dinners (dog food and a little scrap of Chinese food here and there for Cooper, Chinese for everyone else), they ran off into the living room while Steve and Natasha set about clearing up the plates and so on.

“He’s a good one,” Natasha said. “Cooper. I think he’ll be really good for you.”

Steve thought so too, but he wasn’t quite sure how to say that it would be nice to have a puppy to comfort him when he woke up in the middle of the night in tears. “Anna’s got good taste,” he chuckled, easily changing the subject so they weren’t talking about him.

When Natasha and Steve finished cleaning up in the kitchen, they came out to the living room and found Anna on the couch with her arms around Cooper, who was sleeping all curled up against her chest. Friends forever, Steve supposed, but the sight both endeared him to both of them and put a heavy knot in the pit of his stomach. That pit only got a little tighter when Natasha turned to him and fixed him with a look he  _ knew _ was going to get her exactly what she wanted no matter how desperately uncomfortable that made him.

“Do you mind if we stay the night?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Sure.” He offered up a small smile. “Yeah, that’d be fine. Are you sure it’s okay if we… y’know, if we share a bed…?” He awkwardly gestured to Anna, who was still sound asleep on the couch.

“I’m pretty sure she won’t even notice,” Natasha answered. 

Together, they piled pillows on the floor beside the couch and moved the coffee table to be sure that if one or both of them rolled off, they would be okay. After that, they shut all the lights but one and headed into the bedroom to rest. Natasha changed into one of Steve’s tshirts and slid into bed in just that and her panties while Steve neglected a shirt and crawled into bed in just his boxers. This would be the first time they spent the night together, the first time they shared a bed without having sex, but certainly not the first time that Steve had been scared to fall asleep. 

Natasha backed up into his arms and up against his chest and Steve tried his very best to get comfortable behind her. She held his arm and Steve buried his nose in her hair like the familiar scent would make things all better.

“Night, Steve,” she murmured as she presumably fell into a peaceful sleep.

“G’night.” Steve’s whispered words faded into nothing, but sleep didn’t come for him. He was so scared that if he closed his eyes, he would fall asleep and wind up hurting Natasha. Maybe he didn’t  _ always _ wake up thrashing, but he had hurt himself a few times by hitting the headboard or falling out of bed and the thought that he could hurt her was as paralyzing as a fear could be. But as he hadn’t slept very well the night before, it was only a matter of time before he slipped and let himself fall asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to announce that the puppy in the picture, Cooper, has found his forever home through Rescue Dogs Rock NYC! He's exactly as amazing as described; I would know, I've had the pleasure of cuddling with him. <3


	7. Polyhymia; Muse of Sacred Poetry

The nightmare started disguised as a dream. Steve found himself in a bar sharing a beer with Bucky, who was laughing and drinking and looking very much alive and well. Lulled into a sense of unconscious security by the soft lighting and Bucky’s smile, Steve heard himself speak as well. He made some stupid joke and they laughed together, lifting their beers in mutual acknowledgement before knocking them back. 

It never felt right for long, though. Steve began to recognize the bar; they were in England at some point during their time in the army and they’d spent three nights with a bunch of men they knew at that very bar. He could remember how noisy it had gotten, he remembered Peggy showing up in that dress of hers… All of a sudden, the lighting wasn’t so soft anymore.

As Steve began to breathe heavier in bed, shadows appeared around him at the bar. Bucky’s cheeks looked hollow and sunken, his eyes dark and terrifying. Peggy and the others disappeared in wisps of smoke and Steve backed up out of fear, his back slamming into a wall as the thing that had been Bucky got closer and closer to him.

“Why didn’t you protect me?”

Steve shook his head and back in the real world, he began to mutter to himself as he rolled onto his back. His brow furrowed hard as he started to thrash, heedless of anything or anyone around him. “No. No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I tried. I tried…”

“You let me die.”

“Please,” he begged, his voice thick and rough and breaking. “I’m so sorry, Bucky,  _ please _ \---”

“Steve,” Bucky said, not two inches away from him now. “You let me  _ die _ .”

“No! No, I  _ tried _ , I tried--”

 

“Steve.”

 

“Steve.”

 

“ _ Steve! _ ”

 

Steve’s eyes popped open and he felt like he was choking on air. Panicked and drenched in sweat and tears alike, he immediately sat up and crowded his too big body up by the headboard, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs as he pulled them up to his chest. 

 

And then he remembered. 

 

He lifted his gaze to find Natasha watching him quietly from the foot of the bed, her eyes filled with worry and what he immediately presumed was fear. Steve didn’t think he’d ever felt so overwhelmingly disappointed in himself, but it was the humiliation that won out over everything else. How could she ever love him like this? How could anyone? Why would anyone even bother to look at him in all his sniveling, shaking glory and think he was worth the time?

As he slowly wrapped his head around what was happening, he noticed that Natasha’s hand was pressed to her side and dread welled up in his chest. With tears only welling up even more, he shook his head and licked his lips.

“Did I…?”

Natasha answered immediately, her voice quiet. “It’s alright.”

No, it wasn’t. It was never going to be alright. “I’m sorry.”

“Steve, it’s alright. You didn’t mean it.” 

And that made it better? Steve just shook his head and dropped his gaze down in the hopes that he might be able to take a deep breath and move himself out of the room. He’d go for a walk. Yeah. He’d go for a really long walk and that way, he didn’t have to see her leave.

“Мама? Что случилось со Стивом?”

Steve’s eyes snapped up to find Anna staring at him from the doorway with wide, frightened eyes. She held Cooper in both arms and the puppy whined with worry thanks to the atmosphere in the room, he guessed. And given how frightened Anna seemed, Steve couldn’t blame him. The poor thing was probably confused.  _ Anna _ was confused. Natasha was hurt. And it was all his fault. 

“Steve had a bad dream,” he heard Natasha explain. “You’ve had bad dreams, right?”

Anna nodded slowly, but she looked at him like she couldn’t equate running into her mother’s room with whatever she’d heard and what she saw in front of her. A few moments later, she did the sweetest thing she could probably think of and took a step closer to him, carefully setting Cooper on the bed. Steve tensed to the point where it felt like his teeth were going to explode thanks to how tightly his jaw was clenched shut, and he didn’t have any relief until Natasha carefully pulled Anna away again. 

Steve didn’t know if it was what he’d done to Natasha or the look on Anna’s face or the fact that Natasha was pulling her daughter away from him, the  _ threat _ … Whatever it was, Steve had to get out of there. He stood up fast, steadied himself on his feet, roughly pulled on his discarded jeans, and grabbed a tshirt. 

“I’ve gotta--” He felt like he wasn’t even a person anymore. “I’ve gotta go.” Grabbing his sneakers, he glanced very briefly over his shoulder and took one more look at Natasha. 

Without her, how would his life change? Would he fall into that same pit of depression he’d been in before he met her? Would he ever be able to forgive himself for pushing her away? Would she tell others about how she’d made the mistake of trusting him? Would he be nothing but a story to her in a few weeks, nothing but a source of some trepidation on Anna’s part? Would they take Cooper when they left because he couldn’t be trusted with anything delicate?

Steve didn’t know. He didn’t even know if he could keep living like this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, but he was out the door and  _ running _ out of the building before she could say anything else, his leather jacket in hand. He could have sworn he heard her say something before he closed the door, but it was better off this way. She would leave and then maybe Steve would just do what needed to be done. He wasn’t any use to anyone like this anyway. 

 

For the rest of the night, Steve wandered the city. It was always easy to find something to do in New York; that whole ‘city that never sleeps’ thing was true enough, although one could find the quiet spots if they tried hard enough. Steve just wanted to walk. He wandered through his neighborhood and eventually found himself in Times Square, where the lights were still blinking and there were still people on the street pouring out of bars and into taxis to take them home or back to their hotels. It didn’t feel right for him there, so he took a sharp turn and continued walking until he was somewhere a little less commercial and a little more dangerous. 

Steve wandered past homeless people on the street and women who shouted at him while they huddled together near alleys used for more than just hiding from the cops. He looked into windows and avoided the dark corners that felt a little too dangerous, but ultimately kept his head down and his hands in his pockets. He didn’t bother anyone, and he didn’t want to be bothered. Since he’d left his phone at home in his rush to get out, no one could get in contact with him even if they wanted to- and he assumed that no one wanted to anyway.

He watched the sun rise near the Brooklyn Bridge and waited a solid two more hours just staring at nothing before he told himself that he really had to get home. It would be empty by then, he assumed, and he would be able to begin whatever process would allow him to heal.

When he returned home, everything was quiet. It was a punch to the stomach in comparison to what he’d had just a few hours ago; all of the life and brightness that Anna and Natasha had brought with them had been sucked out at their departure. Steve kicked off his shoes, hung up his jacket, and landed on the couch with a long sigh. He’d fucked up. How could anyone ever forgive something like this? How could she ever see past the fact that he’d hit her and scared her daughter all in the space of a few minutes? He simply wasn’t fit to be around people; if he wasn’t such a goddamn coward, he’d just end it all before he hurt anyone else.

He had his head in his hands when he heard a little whine and looked up to find Cooper staring up at him from the floor between his feet. So they’d left the dog behind, probably because Natasha couldn’t take care of a dog and take care of her daughter as well. It wasn’t like she had this incredible job or anything. It would be impossible for her to handle a dog too.

“Hey, buddy…” Steve was overly careful about lifting Cooper up onto his lap, where the puppy tried to climb up higher than that. He planted his paws on Steve’s chest and craned his neck as much as he could to give Steve a few licks along his jaw. “Hey…” He chuckled very softly and watched with some amusement as Cooper whined a little more and nuzzled into his neck.

After a moment, Steve scooped the puppy up and carried him into the kitchen to make sure he had water and fresh food to eat. He’d also need to be taken out, but Steve had pads down in the living room if he couldn’t wait- he was still pretty young, after all. What he found, however, was a note sitting for him on the kitchen table.

 

_ Steve, _

_ Cooper took a walk with us this morning and I refilled his water before we left. I also stole a cup of coffee; I hope you don’t mind. We need to talk about what happened. Call me when you’re ready. _

_ Natasha _

 

Beneath that, there was a little drawing of a heart he presumed Anna made for him before they left that morning. It made his stomach clench uncomfortably just thinking back to the look on her face when she’d seen him in that awful state; she deserved better, period. And if Natasha wanted to push it and talk, then Steve would just have to make the decision for her and avoid it with all he had.

A week passed before he heard from Natasha. Steve suspected that she wanted to give him some space, but he wondered what she would do when she realized that he couldn’t possibly be ‘ready’ to contact her and have that conversation. Maybe that made him a coward, but so what? It was one more bad quality on top of all the others, right? Just one more nail in his coffin.

Days turned into weeks of isolating himself in a way that hurt his very soul. Steve got up every morning and every afternoon without fail to take care of Cooper, but he didn’t draw anymore. He barely left the house otherwise, and his self-worth had taken enough of a dive that hygiene didn’t really feel like a priority either. His beard had grown longer than usual and his hair was longer too. Steve supposed he should get it cut, but the idea of going out there and pretending like everything wasn’t crumbling around him was too daunting to overcome right now. His diet consisted of takeout and leftovers; if he couldn’t bother ordering, then he didn’t eat. He hadn’t been grocery shopping since a couple of days before Natasha pulled him out of the house by force.

Cooper remained a constant companion to him. Steve would take comfort in just petting him for ages while they watched TV and he was usually more than happy to toss a ball back and forth with the excited puppy. His phone started buzzing a week after his episode in front of Natasha.

 

_ Steve, it’s been a week. Let me know you’re okay. –NR _

_ Ten days. Where are you? –NR _

_ I can see that you’re reading these texts, you know. –NR _

__

She called five times after that. Steve never answered, and he couldn’t even think about seeing her. How could he look her in the eyes after what had happened?

Two weeks after his incident, someone knocked and Steve froze on the couch because he hadn’t ordered any food. “Steve? I know you’re in there. Let me in.”

Shit. Steve never, ever wanted to admit it, but he pulled Cooper close to him and shut his eyes tight as he waited for her to give up and go away. It took fifteen full minutes, but eventually she pushed something under his door, told him to take care of himself, and left.

There was a part of him that wanted to answer the door in the hopes that she might forgive him, but  _ should _ she forgive him? What if he’d hit her somewhere else? What if he’d belted her in the face instead of on her side? What if, God forbid, Anna had approached him while he was sleeping and he’d hit her instead? Every time he thought about it, he became a little more aware of the fact that he really wasn’t in any condition to be with anyone. 

When he was sure that she was gone, he stood up and retrieved the paper she’d slid under the door. It was a drawing Anna had done, clearly; it depicted the three of them again, plus a little brown figure he guessed was supposed to be Cooper. No one but him had to know that he put it up on his fridge so he could see it every time he got himself another cup of coffee or another glass of water to give the illusion of a full stomach.

He prayed a lot during that time. On several of the rare occasions when he could convince himself to leave the house, he’d wander into a church and sit in the back row as usual. Most of the time he didn’t stay for mass; instead, he valued the silence as he got to his knees and prayed for a way out of the darkness suffocating him a little more with every day that passed. He prayed for relief, he prayed for the courage to do something to help himself, and he prayed for Natasha and Anna, that they might understand why he’d backed away to such an extent.

 

Steve lost weight. Three weeks into his self imposed exile, he’d realized that he’d lost muscle tone. His face looked drawn and pale, and his sweatpants had to be tied in order to keep them from slipping off. He felt like he was swimming in his shirts. He couldn’t even bring himself to go out and make his appointments with Sam, although he did answer whenever the other man called him.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he mumbled one day. “Everything hurts.”

Sam’s voice was warm and concerned; Steve thought about that every time they talked and he wondered if anyone had ever asked Sam to talk to them until they fell asleep. As it was, the bags under his eyes from lack of restful sleep were beginning to form minds of their own. It would have been so wonderful for someone to help him sleep somehow.

“Steve, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to get out of the house. Go for a longer walk with Cooper, draw in the park… Call Natasha.”

Steve glanced over at his art supplies. He hadn’t touched them at all and they were beginning to gather dust. “I can’t call Natasha,” he said. “What if I hurt her again?”

“She’s good for you,” he insisted. “So you figure out a way to deal with the nightmares  _ and _ have her in your life.” Pause. “At least let me come over. We’ll just talk.”

Another glance around his apartment and Steve wanted so badly to refuse. He wasn’t exactly proud of the fact that he hadn’t been able to clean or tidy up for a while, he was pretty sure he hadn’t showered in four or five days, and there was a tower of soda cans in the corner.

“Okay,” he agreed anyway.

In an effort to keep up appearances, Steve forced himself into a shower and found a less offensive shirt to wear for Sam’s visit. He even trimmed his beard, but he couldn’t work up to shaving. When Sam arrived, his apartment was… definitely neater than it had been, but it still didn’t look great. He knew it, and do did Sam. As they sat on the couch together, Steve decided that being honest here wasn’t going to hurt him either way. He trusted Sam.

“This doesn’t feel like you, Steve.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he grunted. “I don’t feel like me at all.”

“And you haven’t spoken to her?”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “Doesn’t feel right. She’s so amazing and what am I offering her, huh? Problems on top of issues on top of a shit ton of fucked up.”

“You can’t make that decision for her, you know that.”

Yeah, he knew it. “I just want her to be safe. I’m not safe.”

“The fact that you want to keep her safe means something,” Sam reasoned. “Don’t you think you owe her the dignity of her choice?”

Steve leaned back and sighed. “You know, you’re a dick when you know you’re right,” he muttered. “Look, I love her. I don’t think that’s any secret, but how can I justify being in a relationship when I’m this much of a fuckin’ wreck.”

Sam leaned forward a little bit. “Alright, think about it this way,” he tried. “If the shoe was on the other foot, would you think she was  _ protecting _ you by backing off like this?”

Steve tried to imagine it and he knew… He knew right away that he wouldn’t ever want her to make that decision for him. He knew that he’d understand that she had problems and that he’d want to help her work through them. But he also knew that her hitting him wouldn’t  _ hurt _ the way that his hitting her did! He was twice her size!

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be the best person you can be,” Sam reasoned. “Nothing wrong with wanting to better yourself for someone else either as long as you know you’re worth it either way.” He reached out and clapped Steve on the shoulder. “But don’t walk away from someone who’s actually really good for you. Love isn’t something you should just throw away.”

 

Steve knew that Sam was right. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to get past what had happened to him for a very long time, if ever, and Natasha’s presence in his life had been nothing short of a miracle. That same night after Sam left, Steve forced himself to open a sketchbook and get to work on the first part of what would be a very long apology. It took him a week to get it just right; the shading and the coloring and everything that he wanted didn’t come easy, and he actually had to start over twice to make sure it was perfect.

That Saturday, he rolled up his drawing and tied it up with a little ribbon around the middle so he could present it properly and left it on the kitchen table while he took a shower… and made his way out to the barber for his haircut appointment. With his hair cut short and neat, he asked for a shave as well and let him use whatever skill he had to make sure that Steve was clean shaven and smooth. For the first time in ages, Steve actually felt like himself again.

With Cooper on a leash in front of him, he headed towards the park and further along to the farmer’s market, where he was hoping to make amends… or at least  _ start _ to make amends. Unfortunately, Clint was the first one he laid eyes on and based on the way the other man’s eyes narrowed, Steve assumed Natasha had mentioned what happened.

“You know, we reserve the right to refuse service,” he said bluntly as Steve approached. “Move along.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Is that any way to talk to a customer?”

“He’s not a customer, he’s an asshole.”

Shaking her head, Laura offered Steve a small smile. “Are you here for more cider?”

Steve figured he should get used to that. Clint seemed like the protective type and shit, Steve was fucking glad for it. He was elated that Natasha had someone looking out for her in a purely objective way. “No, I was actually hoping to see Natasha,” he admitted. “Do you know if she’s coming today…?”

“What’s it matter to you? Maybe she doesn’t  _ wanna _ see you,” Clint quipped, his arms crossed over his chest. “You got any idea how badly I wanna punch you right now?”

Steve gave him a look. “Go for it,” he challenged. “I probably deserve it.”

Clint gave him a dubious look. “You would deserve it,” he reiterated. “But it’d be a shame to bruise that pretty face. Even if you do look like shit.”

Hey. Steve thought he looked pretty good. “Should’ve seen me yesterday,” he mumbled. “This is decent.”

 

Before they could keep going, Steve heard someone very small shout his name just about as loud as they could. Not five seconds later, someone crashed into his legs and he looked down to find Anna hugging him as tightly as she could-- but that only lasted for a few beats before she was turning her full attention to Cooper.

Steve lifted his gaze and when he finally locked eyes with Natasha again, it was like he’d been slapped. She looked amazing, she looked stop-traffic, stop-the-presses beautiful and she was looking right at him like she didn’t know if she could trust him anymore.

“Nat,” he said. “Hi. I was hoping I’d see you here--”

“You could have texted me.” She looked worried and all of a sudden, Steve felt immeasurably inadequate standing in front of her. A haircut and a shave couldn’t hide the fact that he’d lost weight and it couldn’t disguise the bags under his eyes either. “It wouldn’t have killed you.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know. I should have, I’m sorry. I was having a bad… month.”

Natasha took off her sunglasses and peered way up at him. “I know you were,” she said. “I ran into your counselor? Sam? He recognized me from your  _ drawings _ .”

Shit. “I’m really sorry, but if you spoke to Sam, you know---”

“That you were in a state, yeah.”

Steve supposed it had been pretty arrogant to assume that Natasha would just go ahead and forgive him right off the bat, like all he had done was have a bad dream.

“I know what I did was very wrong,” he said slowly. “If I can, I’d like to try and make it up to you.”

Natasha regarded him with such intensity that Steve nearly took a step back. “Listen to me,” she said seriously, lowering her voice so no one else would be bothered, specifically not the child still playing with Cooper a short distance away. “I can’t have men traipsing in and out of my baby’s life. You can’t just walk into someone’s life and then run when things get complicated.”

Steve bowed his head and nodded quickly. “No, I know,” he said quickly. “I know.”

“Look, I know that you’ve got a lot on your plate,” she continued. “I know you’re dealing with a lot.” She reached up and Steve actually flinched back for a moment before she pressed her lips together in understanding in and laid her hand on his chest. “I care about you,” she murmured. “And I meant what I said in that note- I want to talk about what happened. But until you’re ready to open up, I  _ can’t _ let you back into  _ our _ life.”

Steve found that tears came easily this time. He’d fucked up and he’d always known that there was a possibility she wouldn’t forgive him; he just hadn’t realized that it would be his reaction after the fact that played the biggest part. And while it hurt, he understood why Natasha was doing what she was doing. Anna was more important and it was true that he shouldn’t have gotten so involved if he had even the slightest doubt. This was on him.

“I understand.” And so did she. It wasn’t as though he could accuse her of not understanding that he was having a hard time; Natasha was smart enough to figure that out and clearly Sam had explained a few things to her as well. She was making the best decision she could not just for herself, but for her daughter as well. Somehow, it made Steve’s opinion of her soar even higher. Steve lifted his gaze to meet hers again. “I know it’s not fair to ask you to wait…”

Natasha glanced briefly towards Anna, who was on the ground and happily playing with a very excited Cooper. She looked back once she was sure her daughter wasn’t paying attention and leaned up to grace Steve’s lips with a sort, sweet kiss. “I think you’re worth the wait.”

Steve offered her a soft smile at that, but they were soon interrupted by Anna and Cooper all wrapped up in her arms. Poor thing looked like he was halfway between trying to escape and being completely content with all the love he was getting. “Mama, Можем ли мы играть с Купером в парке?”

There was a moment wherein Natasha looked  _ sad _ and when she didn’t answer right away, Anna looked up to Steve instead. “Can I please play with Cooper in the park?”

He knew he had to do this, but it was hard. It was… surprisingly difficult to just say goodbye to them knowing that if he didn’t fix himself up, he was never going to get another chance. Crouching down in front of Anna, he carefully helped her put Cooper down and offered up a somewhat unsteady smile. “We can’t play today,” he managed. “I’ve got-- an appointment, so I have to take Cooper home.”

Anna looked disappointed and Steve yearned to tell her something different. “Before we go, though, I wanted to give you something special.” He pulled the rolled up drawing out of his back pocket and handed it over to her. “Made especially for you, okay? I hope you like it.”

Anna smiled and jumped forward to give Steve a big, tight hug around the neck. She lingered for only seconds before pulling away to give Cooper another pat and reach for her mother’s hand. “Bye, Steve!”

Natasha took her hand and covertly reached out to brush her fingers against Steve’s. “Bye, Steve,” she whispered. Those two words held everything he needed to know about their future; if he wanted her in his life, he needed to make some changes and he needed to make them now.


	8. Calliope; Muse of Epic Poetry

 

The first thing he did was take Sam up on his suggestion to see a real doctor. He didn’t want to speak to anyone but Sam about his problems, but the psychiatrist he recommended was a kind woman who worked directly with the VA and took into account the reports that Sam wrote up for her. With a set course of treatment for his PTSD came a prescription for antidepressants and another for sleeping pills that would help him get through the night unhindered. Steve was nervous about actually taking the former, but the latter got him a solid ten hours of sleep the very first night and when he woke up the next morning, he actually cried because he’d forgotten what being well rested felt like.

Contrary to what he’d believed, the antidepressants didn’t turn him into a zombie at all once the dosage was worked out the right way. Steve was still dealing with the same heavy emotions he’d dealt with before, but he felt much more capable of handling them in an effective way. With Sam’s help, he was making progress.

Steve also made a lot of changes in his daily routine. With the help of the sleeping pills, he was able to get himself up and out of bed at a reasonable hour. He would go for a long jog before sunrise, come back home for a shower, and then walk Cooper. Together, they would get breakfast from a nearby bagel shop and eat when they got back to the apartment. He went to the gym three times a week or more if he could and whether he felt like it or not, he ate at least three meals a day. By the time a month had passed, he was beginning to see a real change in his muscle mass and he felt… better.

Even with all this progress, however, Steve was still very much aware that his problems hadn’t disappeared. There were times when he’d be hit by waves of sadness and times when he still didn’t quite feel like he was in the right place at the right time, but he was slowly learning how to handle those feelings in a good way. The nightmares didn’t disappear completely either.

While the sleeping pills were a great thing, Steve couldn’t take them every night and the bad dreams popped up a couple of times a week, on and off. He still thrashed, he still woke up in a sweat, he still cried sometimes. Life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows on the medication he’d been given, that was absolutely sure. And even with all that change, Steve had yet to start painting again. He wanted to, but every time he even thought about it, he thought about Natasha.

He missed her.

There was a lot to miss: the shade of her hair and the way she smiled and the sound of her laugh… Steve missed everything about her and he wished beyond anything else that he could just bury his nose in her neck for a few seconds, just so he could remember the smell of her perfume. Was now a good time to contact her? Was he ready? Steve stared at himself in the mirror on the regular and asked himself whether or not now was the time.

Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

 

One day, he sat down and sifted through all the paintings and sketches and little drawings he’d done of Natasha. He stared for a long time at the first painting he’d done, the one he just had to get out of his system right after he’d met her in that cafe. He thought about the first time he’d heard her laugh and the first time she’d come to model for him, the moment when he’d realized that she was a mother too, the moment when he realized that he loved her… It was all very surreal, like maybe she’d only been this beautiful figment of his delusional imagination. Maybe he was so desperate for company that he’d made her up and like the muses of old, she’d come to him in a rare dream every now and then.

When he looked at the paintings spread out on the floor around him, he thought it might be true. She might just be a goddess bestowing upon him the kind of inspiration he so desperately needed. And then he came upon a sketch he’d done of Natasha all curled up in his sheets, still asleep with her hair messed and her lips parted and she was real. All those things he felt for her, the things he _still_ felt for her were real.

At some point, he came upon a simple sketch he’d done of Anna after they’d met and an idea came to him. It was sudden and strange, but Steve grabbed a sketchbook right there on the floor and began drawing a stylized version of Anna, eventually putting her into a small story that he came up with only in his head. He made her a superhero who, along with her superpowered puppy sidekick, did all sorts of good deeds for kids who were bullied or mistreated or lonely.

Two weeks later, a publishing house not only gave him a freelance job, but said that they were going to find him a writer and get that cartoon in a children’s book as soon as possible.

 

Now that it was a brand new year and almost two months after he’d last seen Natasha at the farmer’s market, Steve finally felt like he might just be strong enough to try this again. But how? How did he go about apologizing again and showing her that he was ready this time? How did he open up to someone and still have her think that he was a normal person? Sam was different; he understood Steve’s problems on another level and let’s face it, Steve wasn’t trying to date him. He cared what Sam thought, but not in the same way he cared about what Natasha thought if only because Sam wasn’t trying to make a life with him. Sam wasn’t trying to make a decision about whether or not he could be trusted with a child either.

The idea that he had to stand in front of Natasha and put his heart on the line again in the hopes that she still thought he was worth the wait gave him anxiety. In fact, it gave him such anxiety that he contemplated the right way to do this so that he didn’t quite have to put himself on the line that way; besides, he couldn’t even fathom getting all his thoughts in order so he could explain things to her. He hoped she didn’t mind a slight deviation in what was expected.

 

 

Turning her back on Steve that day in the park had been one of the hardest things Natasha had ever done, but it was the right decision. Their relationship had come as such a surprise; it developed the way relationships ought to and that in itself was shocking because Natasha didn’t _do_ relationships. She hadn’t had a boyfriend--- well, ever. After Alexei, she’d pretty much eschewed all men and thought her life was better for it. Once she was on her feet and living in the same tiny apartment they occupied now, dating still seemed unnecessary. That wasn’t to say that she _never_ slipped and slept with someone on a rare night out, but it wasn’t often. It never meant anything.

The way Steve looked at her made Natasha’s stomach flutter. He was so open and explicit in his affection that she was far more likely to think he was fucking with her than actually being genuine… and yet. The way he drew her, the _care_ that went into getting every little detail down on the paper was nothing short of impressive. When he finally kissed her that first time, it was like she’d been waiting for him much longer than she’d actually known him; maybe those things people said about the right partner weren’t all just romantic nonsense.

With that said, it was still a little jarring when he came upon her and Anna playing in the park. All of a sudden, Natasha knew that she’d have to explain her past and be honest with him because if she wasn’t, what kind of basis was this little relationship of theirs built on?

In the end, it didn’t seem to matter. That night, Natasha woke up not because Steve was muttering to himself, but because something big and firm hit her right in the ribs. She jerked out of bed with a groan and immediately pulled herself away from Steve for the time being because he was still moving and still talking, and she realized after only a moment what was happening. Obviously she had known that he suffered through things like this, but she hadn’t accepted the degree to which he was dealing with his condition. He wore his mask exceedingly well.

Watching him wake up like that was hard for her. Steve looked so horrified and so humiliated, and she couldn’t move. She felt like she couldn’t be sure he actually wanted her to step forward, so she hesitated and ultimately regretted that decision because when Anna came in and set Cooper on the bed for him, Steve _visibly_ tensed like he was scared he might snap and hurt her too. In the meantime, Natasha was dealing with little flashbacks to Alexei shoving her around when he felt like it even though this was not even close to the same thing.

And then Steve was gone, Natasha felt like a prize asshole, and Anna was asking questions.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was for Steve to disappear like he’d never existed in their lives. Anna wanted to know what was wrong with him and Natasha didn’t know what to say because she wasn’t sure she really knew. Instead, she told Anna that Steve had really bad dreams sometimes, and that he needed time to be afraid on his own.

“But мама, when I’m scared I want hugs from you… Doesn’t Steve want hugs?”

Natasha sighed. “Maybe the next time we see Steve, you should give him a big hug. How’s that sound?”

A week passed before Natasha decided that enough was enough. How could he just leave her like this? Didn’t she mean more to him than someone who could just be _left behind_ because of one little incident? It wasn’t the end of the world, but he wasn’t answering her texts or her calls and he wasn’t answering the _door_ even though Natasha knew he was home.

Ages passed after that. Natasha told Clint and Laura all about it after dinner one night while the kids played in the other room and admitted to them before she’d really even admitted to herself that she thought this was special. Maybe it was her naivete, she said. Maybe she hadn’t been in enough relationships to know when it was the real thing.

But she loved him. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

And then, like a slap in the face, he showed up at the farmer’s market one chilly weekend to try and make amends. Natasha hadn’t even begun to wonder what she would do if she saw him again, but the conversation she’d had with Sam still echoed in the back of her mind.

 

_“He’s scared. And he’d probably hate me for even telling you all this, but I think you’re really good for him. I know he cares about you, he just needs-- a push.”_

_Natasha sighed and leaned back. They were seated at a little table in a coffee shop near where Sam had first spotted her and awkwardly introduced himself as ‘having a mutual acquaintance’ and honestly, this was all a bit much to take in._

_“I can’t heal him,” she said carefully. “I hope you both understand that. I’m no miracle cure.”_

_Sam nodded. “I know. And he knows that too. He just doesn’t want to hurt you… and that’s physically or otherwise.”_

_“He already did. He up and left, and I haven’t seen him since.”_

_“I have,” he confessed. “Believe me, he’s not ready for you to see him.”_

 

So when Steve had showed up looking thin and drawn and very much like someone who’d tried very hard to cover up the fact that he was miserable, Natasha had ultimately wanted to wrap him in her arms and invite him back to her place for hot chocolate, marshmallows, and cuddling.

But she couldn’t do that, she realized. As she watched Cooper and Anna play for a few seconds, she realized that it was her duty to protect not only her own heart, but her daughter’s. Anna had been so confused that morning and she’d been asking for Steve ever since. It wasn’t as though she’d ever had a father figure besides Clint and Steve had managed to make one hell of an impression on her even though they’d only spent a short amount of time together. There was one conversation in particular that bothered her.

 

_“How come you don’t see Steve anymore?”_

_Natasha looked up from the counter where she was mixing cheese into macaroni for dinner and sighed. How did one explain to a five year old that Steve wasn’t picking up her calls? “Steve’s… busy right now, that’s all.”_

_Silence. Anna toyed with her fork. “Doesn’t he like us?”_

_That question sent an unexpected wave of sadness through Natasha, but it was followed up by a surge of anger. How could he do this with no explanation at all? Not even a text to explain._

_“How could anyone not like you?” She teased instead, filling her daughter’s bowl with macaroni before seeing to her own. “You’re adorable, you know that.”_

_Anna sat up a little straighter and dug into her food. “I miss him, that’s all,” she said as she took a big bite. “And Cooper too.”_

 

How could she let him back into her life if the risk was that he was going to leave again, probably without any warning or explanation, probably breaking both of their hearts all over again? No. As much as she cared for him, as much as she wanted him in her life, she had to put Anna first and she told him so; he needed to make some changes and really be _sure_ before they started this up again. Until then, she wouldn’t hear of it.

 

Two months passed.

 

Natasha was more than ready for Spring. The cold weather had begun to fade a little bit and since the groundhog didn’t see his shadow, Spring was very much on the way. Still, there wasn’t a day that went by that Natasha didn’t think about whether or not she’d ever be hearing from Steve. Maybe he couldn’t do it. The thought pained her, but she knew that checking in on him would be crossing an unwritten line. He needed to do this for himself, not strictly for her.

One day when Anna was in school and Natasha was desperately trying to catch up on a little sleep, someone knocked and eventually handed her a large envelope that she had to sign for. Someone out there really wanted to be sure this wound up directly in her hands. Thanking the messenger, she closed the door and made herself a cup of tea while she opened her package.

The first thing she found was a drawing and it made her light up because she knew right away that this was from Steve. The drawing depicted a superhero-- The Amazing Anna --and a puppy sidekick she knew was supposed to be Cooper. It was done up like the cover of a comic book and immediately, she wanted to show it to her daughter because it would make her day. This was wonderful! Steve was drawing again, and drawing something totally new!

The next thing she found was a thick, folded bit of paper with her name written on the outside.

 

_Dear Natasha,_

_I know it’s been a while. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you for tearing this right up and forgetting I ever existed, but I’ve got to give it a shot. I hope you can forgive me for a number of things, but first and foremost for the decision to write a letter instead of calling you or seeing you in person._

_There’s no way to really express how sorry I am for what happened. I never wanted you to see me like that, much less be put in any danger, and the fact that I hurt you weighs on my mind even now. The fact that Anna was there to see me like that is something I deeply regret if only because I know she must have been scared. She puts on a brave face, but she’s just a kid and I know how it must have looked. Sam says I should have just let you see me, but how could I?_

_When I stopped answering your texts, it was because I couldn’t imagine what I might say. I couldn’t picture ever letting you put yourself in more danger by coming back into my life because the nightmares aren’t going away. I’m on medication now so they’re better, but it’s not a cure. The thing is that I understand that taking your decision away from you was the wrong thing to do. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t chivalrous; it was cruel, and self centered. I can’t tell you how sorry I am if I ever hurt you in any way._

_Those few weeks after what happened in my room were some of the darkest of my life. I thought about just ending it, I thought about wasting away in my apartment because it wasn’t like anyone would find me for a while. I thought about how worthless I felt and how my life had no meaning and I thought about you because since I woke up, you’ve been the one thing that really made sense. Beyond fitting into my life now, beyond trying to figure out a place in this world the way I am after all I’ve been through, you make sense. I should have told you that from the start._

_It’s probably cliche to tell you this way, right? Not romantic, like in one of those old movies, but I’m going to do it anyway and you’ve just got to understand that sometimes I’m cheesy._

_I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you in that coffee shop and then everything I learned about you from that moment on just cemented that fact. I don’t know if you know what you did for me or how much your company alone meant to me as someone who hadn’t spoken to anyone but Sam for weeks before I met you, but... You remain the light in a world that’s sometimes so dark I can’t find my way out on my own._

_I think I was just scared before; scared that I’d disappoint you, scared that I’d fail you like I’ve failed other people I’ve loved. I’m still scared to tell you the truth about what happened because I think you’ll see me as a different person, but I know that it’s important for you to understand and I’m ready now. I’m ready to do this the way it should be done._

_So. If you can still stomach the thought of being with me, then meet me. I’ll be in the park near the pond. I’ll wait for you. If not, then… thank you for all you’ve done for me._

_All my love,_

_Steve_

 

 

Well, this was it. Steve had poured his heart and soul into that letter and sent it off with a messenger to Natasha. All he had to do now was wait and find out if she was going to give him another chance. And hey, it wasn’t like his heart was right there on the pavement waiting to be stepped on or anything. Rubbing his hands over his thighs, he wondered if she’d come. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t; he’d kept her waiting longer than two months if they were counting back to the night of his terrible offense and maybe he just wasn’t really worth the wait like she’d said.

In all this time, she might have met someone else.

Steve had brought along his sketchbook, but it remained untouched beside him. He was too nervous to draw, too nervous to do anything but watch the water in front of him and pray.


	9. Urania; Muse of Astronomy

“Anna! I’m not going to call you again, it’s time to go!”

Anna came rushing into the living room a moment later wearing a brand new dress to go along with brand new tights and brand new shoes. She’d picked each item out herself and thankfully, she matched.

“Стив, ты обещал!” She exclaimed, gesturing to her hair.

Steve sat down and patted his thighs so she could sit on his lap while he carefully braided her hair; since he’d become such a permanent fixture in her life, he’d gone out of his way to learn a few things for when her mother wasn’t available. Steve now knew how to braid her hair in a number of ways, how to sew, how to cook more than just whatever he could find in a box, and he’d become an expert in playing with dolls. He’d also managed to learn a little conversational Russian, but he really only understood it. Speaking Russian only managed to make Natasha and Anna laugh at him.

Once he tied off her braid with a band, he let her up again and she ran into the kitchen to find her mother with Steve right on her heels.

“мама, look!” She did a little twirl and Steve chuckled as Natasha rushed forward to make sure Anna’s clothes were alright; no tags, no wrinkles, perfect.

“You look beautiful, клецка,” she said warmly. “Everyone’s going to want to be your friend.”

Her lunch was packed up and tucked into her backpack, her appearance was officially approved, and it was time to go! Steve got Cooper’s leash on and they all headed outside into the cool, autumn day. The weather was really cooperating for the first day of school; summer seemed to fade away the moment August ended and now, in just the second week of September, they’d gone from bathing suits to jackets and boots.

On the sidewalk, Anna took Natasha’s hand with her left and Steve’s hand with her right. With Cooper excitedly leading the way, they made the six block walk to her school, where she would be starting the first grade. “Who’s going to pick me up?” She asked at some point, looking between Steve and Natasha.

“Uh, we both will,” Steve promised. “I took off work today just so I could be there to hear all about your first day.”

Anna beamed with pride and began humming to herself as they neared the school, but after her mother kissed her goodbye and Steve gave her a wide smile and a bright ‘Good luck!’, she hesitated.

“What if I don’t make any friends?”

It had to be hard for her, starting a brand new school. After Steve and Natasha had gotten back together, things had moved kind of fast and they’d decided that it was best to get a place together; Steve’s place didn’t have enough room for Anna and Natasha’s place was so small that Steve wouldn’t be able to bring any of his things with him. They’d found a place at the end of May, but waited until Anna was all done with Kindergarten to move in at the end of June.

It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it did have two bedrooms, an elevator, and a nice, big living room. All that plus the fact that it was in a great school district made Steve and Natasha pretty sure they were doing the right thing, but unfortunately that did mean that Anna would be going to a new school in September. It would be worth it, they thought, to have her in an all-around better school going forward.

“Sweetie, you’ll make friends,” Natasha said immediately. Both she and Steve crouched down on either side of Anna to reassure her that everything would be alright.

Steve reached out to touch her hair and brush a few strands back behind her ear. “Listen, if anyone doesn’t wanna be friends with you, then they’re not worth your time.” He leaned forward a little bit. “Remember that, okay?”

Anna looked like she was about to cry for a second, but she jumped forward to hug Steve around the neck instead. “Promise you’ll be here when I get out,” she demanded, her voice muffled by the collar of his leather jacket.

“I promise.” Steve tightened his arms around her for a few moments, but they ultimately had to separate. While Anna was giving her mother a similar hug, they were approached by an absolutely enormous man who looked like he was dressed as a--- teacher?

 

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said politely. “My name is Thor Odinson, I believe your daughter is with me—“

Steve blinked in surprise and took his hand to give it a shake. “Nice to meet you,” he answered, lowering his voice a little as he leaned in towards the other man. “And technically, she’s not my daughter.” He didn’t even like saying it; Natasha had said he didn’t have to, but Steve didn’t think it was right to deceive anyone or take the place of Anna’s real father in the little girl’s mind.

“Oh, my apologies.” His smile was contagious, but the sight of him offering his massive hand to Anna was just funny. “You must be Anna,” he said. “And Ms. Romanov, yes?”

Natasha nodded and shook his hand. “We’re just a little nervous about making friends,” she said easily. “Anna, say hello.”

Anna shied away just like she had when she first met Steve, but even more so now that she was dealing with so many new things. Thor smiled and crouched down to her level. “I’d very much like to be your friend,” he offered kindly. “Do you think we can start there?”

Anna looked up to Steve and gave him a dubious look that nearly made him laugh. “Go on,” he urged gently. “It’s alright.”

She pressed her lips together and slowly moved forward to take Thor’s hand. Hers looked nearly miniature in comparison. “Hello,” she whispered. “---Are we going to draw today?”

Thor smiled widely. “I think that can be arranged,” he said as he stood up. “Are you an artist, Anna?”

Anna shook her head quickly. “No, but Steve is,” she said proudly. “He draws pictures for books!”

“Well, then we’ll have to see if we can have Steve come in and speak to the class someday,” he suggested. “Would you like that?”

Steve very nearly backed off, but Anna’s eyes lit up and she gasped excitedly. “Can we?!”

“I believe we can,” Thor answered. “Come now. There are a lot of new friends just waiting to meet you.”

Anna spared them one more glance before bounding into the school hand in hand with her teacher. Steve nodded slowly and eventually took Natasha’s hand so they could walk home together, Cooper still happily trotting along beside them even though he looked a little confused by Anna’s absence.

 

“Okay, I don’t wanna be vulgar, but did you see that guy?” Steve blurted out.

Natasha threw her head back and laughed. “I know! I didn’t want to say it and make you feel bad!”

“Man, parent teacher is going to be really distracting.”

They continued teasing one another about the pretty teacher until they were standing on a corner, outdoor café on one side of them, and the path home on the other. They had said they would get breakfast before they went home since Steve wasn’t going to work and Natasha had decided to skip her dance class that day, but…

“You know,” Natasha murmured as she leaned into him a little bit. “Anna hasn’t been out of the house like this in a long time.”

Steve swallowed and raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“So, we have the whole place to ourselves.”

Oh.

“For the first time since we moved there.”

Steve cleared his throat and licked his lips. “Home. Yeah, home. We can just—home.”

They laughed and headed back to their apartment, eventually leaving Cooper in the living room so they could basically lock themselves in their bedroom and get to it. After all, there wasn’t always an opportunity wherein they could be as loud as they liked.

Steve thought about how far they’d come while Natasha undressed him and tackled him to the bed. Waiting for Natasha that day in the park felt like the longest hour of his life until she arrived. He could still remember the way she was dressed; her scarf had been red and when she kissed him, her skin was cold. He remembered how bright her hair had looked against the still bare trees behind her, and he wasn’t likely to ever forget what they’d said to one another on the bench that day.

 

 

_ “It was a beautiful letter you wrote,” Natasha said. “I hate that you had to go through all that alone.” _

_ Steve offered her a warm smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was ashamed, you know?” He let out a soft laugh. “I’m still ashamed. I’m trying to just tell you anyway.” _

_ “You know, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You’re a hero; don’t think I didn’t ask Sam about you.” She reached out, took his hand, and laced their fingers together between them and pulling his into her lap like that might keep him close one way or another. “I want to be there for you. For all of it.” _

_ Silence. “I’m still scared I might hurt you,” he said softly. “I don’t want to do that again.” _

_ “Steve, it was more of a shock than anything else.” She reached out with her other hand to touch his cheek and turn his gaze up to her. “I’m fine. There wasn’t even much of a bruise.” _

_ He took a deep breath. “But there was a bruise,” he reasoned. “I want this to work and I want to be open about it, but I can’t-- live with myself if I’m hurting you. I’m on pills that help me sleep now, so on those days… we can share a bed. But otherwise, I’m just not so sure.” _

_ Natasha considered him for a moment and nodded. “I can do that,” she said. “But I do want to know everything you’ve been through. I want to understand where the nightmares come from.” _

 

 

After that, Steve had realized that she was serious about being there for him… so he told her the truth. He told her about how he’d been in charge of a group of men and how he’d gotten Bucky killed. He told her the whole story in the simplest way he could, not bothering to hide anything, like the fact that he’d been in love with Peggy before slipping into that coma and how he didn’t blame her for moving on the way she had. He told her about how he hadn’t yet convinced himself to visit Bucky’s grave because that would make it real somehow.

He told her that he’d considered killing himself.

She’d looked upset before, but that admission earned a tight hug with her arms around his neck and her whole body pressed up against his. Steve smiled a little and returned her embrace as he was ultimately more thankful for the contact than anything else. Afterwards, they’d made an effort to actually go out on dates instead of just sitting around letting Steve draw or rolling around in bed; it took effort on both their parts as Natasha was working the late shift as a waitress and Steve still had some anxiety about being in large crowds, but they made it work.

His nightmares had improved. Unless Steve felt like it was a really bad day, they were able to sleep in the same bed together every night and more often than not, Natasha found her way at least partially on top of Steve by the time they fell asleep. His depression was  _ managed _ , but he still saw Sam at least every week, sometimes twice, and they’d become such good friends in the meantime that counseling happened all over the place; Steve remembered a very long conversation in the back of a cab once, and another while they were out shooting pool.

“Ah--” Steve glanced down at Natasha just in time for her to pull her mouth off him and grin dangerously. “Hey,” he protested. Her nails were still digging into the skin of his thighs and slowly raking down. “Getting a little rough, don’t you think?”

Natasha bit down on her lower lip and continued raking her nails over him while she crawled up to claim his lips in another kiss. “You love it,” she murmured against them. “Say it.”

Steve playfully refused and Natasha lightly raked her nails all the way down his chest, deliberately brushing over both nipples in the process. Groaning as little as he could, Steve let out a huff of air and gave her a look. “Alright, alright, I love it. Sue me.” 

The triumphant way she smiled was too much and Steve flipped their positions easily so he could kiss her neck and nibble at the sensitive spot right at the hinge of her jaw. “I think that deserves some kind of retribution,” he mumbled. He waited for her to ask him what he thought he was going to do before leaning back and dropping onto his stomach between her legs. 

“So what? I can handle you, Steve Rogers.” 

Steve took her hands and held her wrists tight, so she couldn’t pull away. With her legs over his shoulders and his mouth eventually landing right between them, Natasha was entirely at his mercy. She was going to get to the point where it was ‘too much’ and she wouldn’t be able to get away, thus the brilliance of his plan. 

Sure enough, Natasha’s hands started to flex in his grip and she’d cursed his name nearly eight or nine ways from Sunday instead of the usual six by the time he got her off the third time. 

“Payback tastes real sweet,” he laughed as he finally pulled back. Well. Natasha wasn’t having that snide little smirk he was giving her. She gathered herself and pounced, successfully tackling him down so she could take over and get him off in return. She even held his hands- and Steve pretended like he couldn’t just pull out of her grip.

God, he was part of a family now. Maybe they were still lost in the honeymoon phase and maybe it wouldn’t always be this easy, but Natasha and Anna were his family now. He loved both of them. It was a long time since the first time he’d told her (that is, the first time since he’d first said it to Natasha over breakfast and immediately panicked because watching her devour homemade pancakes on a Saturday morning wasn’t exactly the definition of romantic), but every single time he said those words it was like his stomach just filled with butterflies.

 

After an entire day of sex on and off in various parts of the house and lunch that consisted of big, juicy cheeseburgers and fries eaten in bed, Steve felt like they were even more rejuvenated than usual. They walked hand in hand to pick Anna up from school and when her class came out, Anna  _ ran _ up to them and jumped right into her mother’s arms.

Once she’d hugged Steve as well and thrust into his arms the picture she’d drawn him that day, Anna happily took their hands as she had that morning and talked nonstop about how amazing Mr. Odinson was and how nice her classmates had been (except Sharon, who apparently said that Anna sounded ‘funny’ when she said something in Russian) and how much she wanted to go back tomorrow. It was a tremendous relief to both adults that she was so excited.

“Hey!” He said brightly. “I think we should go get some ice cream.”

Anna jumped up between them and cheered. “Yeah! Can we, Mama? Can we?”

Natasha smiled and pretended to consider it for a long moment. “Yes! We absolutely can.”

So they did. Together, the trio walked to a little ice cream shop about halfway back to the apartment and as Anna excitedly picked out which flavors she wanted, Steve found himself smiling again. This was his life now. This was his beautiful family. Anna was like an angel; she was smart and sweet and he loved her just as much as he loved her mother. And Natasha?

As evidenced by the painting hanging up in their living room, the same painting that he’d done the first day he’d laid eyes on her, Natasha would always remain his muse.

 

 

_ “Anna? I wanted to ask you something.” Steve wasn’t sure how to begin the conversation, but he’d taken Anna out to the beach now that the summer was coming to an end and he knew he had to do it now. It had been over a year since he and Natasha had gotten back together following what could only be described as a major breakdown on his part and it was  time . She was seven years old; she was old enough to understand what he wanted. _

_They’d settled on the beach under a big umbrella and Steve watched as Anna built a sandcastle nearby. Natasha was in classes all day; she’d gone back to school to get a degree, which she’d never had the opportunity to do before, and this was the perfect opportunity to have The Talk._

_She looked up and peered at him, but she didn’t move and she didn’t take her sunglasses off._

_“You know I love your mother very much,” he started._

_Anna hopped up and jumped onto his lap. “I know,” she said simply. “You tell her all the time.”_

_ Steve smiled. “Of course I do,” he chuckled. There was a brief pause before he continued on, idly “I was hoping you’d give me your blessing to ask her to marry me.” _

_ Now, that she hadn’t been expecting. Anna gasped out loud and straightened up, her attention snapping right to Steve. “Really? You’re gonna ask her to marry you? Do you have a ring? Is it pretty? I bet it’s beautiful!” _

_ “Well, I hope she thinks it is,” he laughed. “Does that mean I have your blessing?” _

_ “Yes!” Anna immediately leaned forward to hug him around the neck, but Steve had one other thing to ask her and in some ways, it was even more important than the first thing. _

_ “There’s just one more thing,” he continued as she sat back. “I love you too, Anna. When I marry your mother, I’ll be able to adopt you and then you’ll really be my daughter…” _

_ Anna stopped and he could see the thought forming in her eyes. “You want to be my daddy?” _

_ Steve took a deep breath and nodded. “Would that be okay?” _

_ Looking a little overwhelmed, Anna leaned forward again and hugged him tight. This time, she didn’t let go for a long time and Steve just held her there, idly rubbing her back while she sniffled a little and held onto him. “I love you, Папа,” she whispered after a while. _

_ “I love you too, baby,” he answered, turning to kiss her hair. “I love you so much.” _

 

 

Steve asked Natasha to marry him at seven thirty four in the morning on a Saturday. They were in bed and it just came out while he was kissing her shoulder. She spun around so fast that she hit him in the nose and he wound up laughing his ass off into the pillow… with his hand over his nose to make sure there was no blood. Once the laughter and kisses had died down, Steve dug through his drawer and presented her with a beautiful, vintage wedding ring he’d had for nearly six months at that point. Anna had been so good at keeping it a secret that Natasha looked genuinely surprised; he couldn’t wait to tell Anna that it was really happening.

Their ceremony was very small. Natasha invited Clint and Laura, and their kids, while Steve only invited Sam, who served as his ‘best man’ of sorts, and a woman from work named Wanda, who felt more like a daughter to Steve than anything else. They were married in a small church in December and enjoyed a nice dinner at a restaurant nearby before spending the weekend in a hotel room while Anna stayed with Clint and Laura. In lieu of a honeymoon, they decided they would take a family vacation when it got a little warmer.

Life became steady for everyone involved. Cooper grew into his paws and he was quite big, but he was a gentle soul and always treated everyone,  _ especially _ Anna, with the greatest of care. Anna herself was growing into a beautiful young lady and fancied herself interested in music of all things; she wasn’t a dancer like her mother, but she asked for piano lessons for her eighth birthday and played beautifully by the time she was ten.

Steve had his bad days. Depression wasn’t something that was magically cured, but he did eventually wean himself off the medication and handled things as they came. He loved his job and he loved his life and he loved his family; they were enough to make him understand that life had too many wonderful things in it for it to be considered a waste.

Natasha only grew more beautiful with time. Steve found himself breathless at the sight of her too often for it to be strange at all. He wasn’t surprised but it anymore. In fact, he rather expected to have the wind knocked out of him when she entered the room. He still drew her all the time; at night, she would curl up on the couch with a book and he would draw her from the other side of the room. Sometimes, he’d sketch her while she cooked dinner or ordered takeout. He drew her while she was sleeping, after sex, with Anna, with Cooper, playing in the snow, raking leaves, throwing leaves at him---

In every single way, Natasha remained the perfect match for him. Maybe they fought every now and then and maybe she was still more than willing to call him an idiot if the shoe fit, but Steve never once questioned his decision to trust her. Slipping that ring onto her finger and signing those adoptions papers were two of the best things he’d ever done in his life and every smile from Anna, every kiss from Natasha, every cozy night spent curled up on the couch with his girls was undeniable, absolutely indisputable proof that he was exactly where he was always meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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